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THE BOY WikS LYING AGAINST A FELLED TREE.” 


THE MATE OF THE “MARY KM 


H Stor^ 



SOPHIE SAVETT 

AUTHOR OF 

“ CAPTAIN POLLY ” “ FLYING HILL FARM ” ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 



HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 

1894 





Copyright, 1893, by Harper & Brothers. 


All rights reserved. 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


“the boy was lying against a felled tree ’ . . . 

“ ‘ you’re going with date FRENEAU,’ SAID ROBIN, 

SEVERELY ” 

“‘where’s the captain?’ DEMANDED THE GENTLEMAN”. 
“ANNETTE APPEARED HOLDING A LAMP OVER HER HEAD” 
jean’s confession to MR. SEARS 

“the monkey’s long lean arm was thrust down into 
the pocket ” 

“ SHE found THANNY MANFULLY ATTACKING A PILE OP 

logs” 

“ KEN SOFTLY OPENED AND SHUT THE DOOR ” 

“robin took the twins and traddles to the show”. 

“ THE OLD fisherman WILLINGLY CONSENTED TO TAKE THE 

PARTY IN HIS wagon” 

‘“you’re the very WORST SISTER A BOY EVER HAD*” . 
“ MARTHA KEPT THE FAT PONY UP TO HIS LIVELIEST PACE ” . 
“DAVE WAS STILL STANDING BY THE FURNACE, WATCHING 

WITH FASCINATED GAZE ” 

“robin spread the paper out upon THE BROAD WIN- 
DOW seat” 

“the moonlight silvered a SMALL SAIL DRIFTING OUT 
OF GRIDIRON COVE ” 

ken’s letter 

“ ‘ SAY, MOIRA, TELL ’eM DAVE FRENEAU HAS GOT LOST IN 

THE marsh’ ” 

“ THERE WAS A SUDDEN HUSH IN THE GROUP ABOUT THE 

DOOR ” 

“robin WAS EXTINGUISHING THE LIGHT IN THE HALL ” . 


Frontispiece. 


Facing p, 

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188 

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228 



THE MATE OF THE “MARY AM 


CHAPTER I 

Only one boj, and so many girls ! Eobin whisked 
the little ones behind the clump of scrub-oaks when- 
ever any one came along the road. Jean would not 
be thrust out of sight, but sat dangling her long legs 
from the fence and staring at every one, never in 
the least ashamed of being a girl. 

But then Jean had not overheard their father say 
to their mother, on that dreadful night when they 
thought he was dying, that if there were only one 
more boy among them he should not be so afraid to 
leave them. He had partially recovered ; he had 
even crept up to the hill to the church and preached 
one Sunday; but still the trouble was heavy at 
Eobin’s heart — so many helpless girls on his feeble 
hands. And it made matters worse that Papa Dins- 
more had old-fashioned ideas about girls, and did 
not realize that they could ever be otherwise than 
helpless. 

He worried more about them now than about the 
congregation under his care, which had dwindled 
away until now the picturesque church of rough 


2 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

stone and sliingle which the Land Company had 
helped to build when Penauhant promised to be- 
come a fashionable summer resort, was abandoned 
to the ravages of wind and weather. The tide of 

O 

fashion had turned now, in its fickle way, and was 
fiowing towards Menawket, farther up the cape, and 
the rich people who had beautiful and quaint cot- 
tages at Penauhant all deserted them. 

The Dinsmores had come with the rich people, 
but they had not gone with them. Mr. Dinsmore 
had believed in the future of Penauhant, and had 
“sunk” all the money he had there, and the fail- 
ing health, which had been one cause of his com- 
ing, had failed more and more, and now the wolf’s 
howl at the door was louder than the roar of the 
wind about the blufis on winter nights. And some- 
times it seemed as if Ken had no idea that his was a 
responsible position, but thought that one could be a 
boy just for the fun of it. 

Ken came breathlessly scrambling up the steepest 
side of the blufis one morning, and called to Kobin, 
who was in the porch : 

“ I promised to take a party from Quansett out in 
the Mary Ann this morning, and now I — I can’t 
go,” he said. “You see, I promised a boy that I 
would go down to Kingstown with him the very first 
chance we got. It’s — it’s on business. And Cap’n 
Saul is going down in the Scud^ and will take us.” 

The color had rushed into Ken’s girlishly fair 
face, and his eyes searched the sand which he was 
restlessly kicking. 

“You’re going with Dave Freneau,” said Kobin, 
severely. 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 3 

‘‘What if I am demanded Ken, sharply. “ There 
wasn’t a fellow at St. Luke’s who began to have 
such a lot of brains as Dave Freneau. He knows 
things, too, that he doesn’t tell! Hallett & Close 
would give something to know the things that he 
knows.” 

“ Ken, I wish you would be more practical and 
study, as papa wants you to. It is better to do 
simply what one ought than to have great ideas that 
never come to anything. They say that boy has 
been uneasy since his father died, and he is making 
you so.” 

“Wouldn’t a fellow who had anything in him be 
uneasy buried in this hole ?” demanded Ken, forcibly. 
“ But Dave isn’t uneasy now, because he has got me 
to help him, and this place will do to make a start 
in. Won’t Hallett & Close open their eyes! And 
people who ha¥e been hinting that I wasn’t of any 
account will have to sing small !” 

“ I haven’t meant to hint, Ken — that is horrid,” 
said Kobin, contritely. “ But, oh, I wish I were a boy !” 

“I’m not sure that you’d be very much of a fel- 
low,” said Ken, with cruel candor. “ A boy has to 
stand a lot of rough things. And he can’t holler 
when he’s hurt, as a girl can. And he doesn’t keep 
talking. I say, Kobin, you will go ?” 

“.I’m afraid they won’t like to go out with a girl,” 
said Eobin, doubtfully. 

“ They’ll have heard all about you,” said Ken. 
“They’ll know that you can manage a boat as well 
as I can. There’s a stiffish breeze, but it’s steady. 
You’d better take Thanny Baker with you ; he’ll be of 
some use.” 


4 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

Without another word Robin went into the house 
to get her rough jacket and her fore-and-aft cap and 
other sailor gear. 

“ I wish I could go,” said Jean, meeting her at the 
door as she came out. “ I’m tired of jingling that 
old piano that never was tuned. And I sha’n’t hear 
the twins’ spelling, nor try to keep Posy from toeing 
in. If either of us is going to have a chance to be a 
tombo}’', I think it ought to be me.” 

“ Do say it ought to be /, Jean,” said Robin, puck- 
ering her brows, as she crept along under the study 
windows with a pair of oars over her shoulder. 

‘‘ What does it matter when no one who hears us 
knows the difference ?” said Jean, philosophically. 
“Anyway, I’m tired of such a lot of grammar and so 
few good times.” 

Jean walked over to the edge of the bluff to watch 
Robin on her way down the straggling sandy path to 
the little pier at which the Mary Ann lay, cleaned 
of all fishiness, and shining with a coat of new paint 
applied by the captain and mate’s own hands in prep- 
aration for summer visitors. 

Robin flung out a flag from her bow — it was a 
Union Jack, which Cap’n Saul had produced from 
some ancient stores — and blew a shrill whistle, and 
soon a row-boat put out from Lobster Point. Thanny 
Baker’s tow head was visible in it, and Thanny’s small 
arms were pulling with a will. Thanny was but 
twelve ; but he was a “cute” little Yankee, to whom 
sailor lore had come much easier than his A B C’s. 
He and his half-brother Saul lived together in a little 
house on Lobster Point, and were their own cooks 
and house-keepers. 


5 


THE MATE OF THE MAHY ANN ” 

‘^SauPs goin’ mackereliii’. There’s an orfle big 
school in,” said Thannj. I thought you’d be 
wantin’ me. Them city folks don’t think nothin’ 
about the mackerel. Better reef her a little, hadn’t 
I ? There’s consid’able of a breeze outside.” 

The Mary Ann cut the blue water sharply, and 
dipped to one side as the strong breeze filled her 
sail, and Robin kept the sheet in her hand, and had 
the little pucker between her brows that seldom 
went away while she was in command of the Mary 
Ann. 

Thanny felt a great admiration for Robin ; he had 
gone so far as to determine that the ship of which he 
meant to be captain before he was twenty -five should 
be named the Robena Dinsmore. 

“Mackerel are orfle high. You can sell ’em for 
five dollars a barrel right down on the wharf at 
Kingstown ; but I’d ruther go ’long of you in the 
Mary Ann than to go mackereliii’,” he said, loyally. 

“ Is Saul going after mackerel ?” asked Robin. “ I 
thought he was going to Kingstown.” 

“He said he had a couple of passengers to take 
down there, and the mackerel are down that way, too. 
He generally manages to kill two birds with one 
stone ; that’s the way with Saul,” said Thanny, 
proudly. 

A party of five was waiting for the Mary Ann on 
the wharf at Quansett — a middle-aged man and lady, 
and a boy and two girls of about Robin’s own age. 

“ Them’s the folks that’s been visiting to Close’s, 
over to Sandford,” said Thanny, as the boat came in 
sight of the wharf. “ They’re Kew York folks. 
They’re glass folks, too, only they don’t make com- 


6 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAEY ANN ” 

mon kinds, like Sandforders : tliey make it colored 
and pictered out for churches. There’s some in a 
meetin’ - house over to Deepmouth. Saul and me 
went once, and I never heard a word the minister 
said, a-watchin’ the folks’s noses get red and blue and 
yaller.” 

They had reached the wharf by this time, and 
Thanny stepped out first, while Robin busied herself 
about the sail. She felt an unusual reluctance to 
meeting these people in her professional capacity of 
mate of the Mary Ann. They were of a different 
type from Quansett’s ordinary summer guests, and, 
moreover, it was especially unpleasant to feel like a 
boy among girls of her own age. The other people 
whom she had taken out were artists, who had been 
wholly absorbed in the ‘‘tone” and “sympathy” of 
the views, and had evidently regarded her only as a 
picturesque value. 

“ Where’s the captain?” demanded the gentleman, 
adjusting his eye-glass. 

“It — it’s replied Thanny, indicating Robin 

by a backward jerk of his thumb. “ Me and her is 
cap’n and crew and all hands to-day. The cap’n he’s 
gone away. She’s mate, any how, all the time, and 
consid’able of the time I’m all hands.” 

“ A girl ! What an extraordinary thing !” Robin 
lieard the lady say. 

“ Is there no experienced skipper about here who 
will take a party out?” said the gentleman, with a 
touch of impatience, to old Solomon Gross,-who was 
mending a net on the wharf. 

“You needn’t be a mite afraid to resk yourself 
’long of the parson’s gal,” he said. “ I ain’t sayin’ 


WHKI^E’S TliE CAPTAIN ?’ PEMANPED THE GENTLEMAN 









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7 


TOE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN”’ 

that it’s accordin’ to nater for a gal to sail a boat ; 
but she can do it, and that ’pears to be the main p’int. 
I can’t say how she or the Mary Ann would behave 
in a harrycane, but take ’em ’long shore there this 
afternoon, and there ain’t no danger.” 

The gentleman looked first at Robin and then at 
the Mary Ann^ and his forehead wore an anxious 
frown. 

“You couldn’t take us out yourself, I suppose?” 
he said to old Solomon. 

“ Me ? Lor’ bless yon, where you from that you 
hain’t heerd about tlie mackerel ? I expect the 
Lord sends ’em all ketched and fried up your 
way ; but here we have to step ’round lively to 
get ’em.” 

Robin was turning away with a sense of relief that 
tliey would not go with her. But, after all, business 
was business ; the money meant so much, and she 
must not be “like a girl” — Ken’s oft-repeated ac- 
cusation. “I don’t think you need to be afraid,” 
she said, turning again to the party, with an air of 
grave dignity. “I really understand managing a 
boat.” 

“ Oh, papa, we must see the gulls on that queer 
place that they call the Chunks !” cried the younger 
of the two girls, who, Robin had observed, was more 
stylish but not nearly so “grown-up” in her manner 
as the other. 

“I shouldn’t think that you were strong enough 
to manage a boat,” said the man, doubtfully. 

“It isn’t strength, you see; it’s ‘know how,”’ in- 
terposed Thanny; “and I’m goin’ along myself.” 
Thanny pulled up his suspenders and set his dilapi- 


8 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

dated hat squarely upon his “head with a business- 
like air. 

“Well, perhaps we may venture a little way with 
you,” said the gentleman, after a low-toned consulta- 
tion with his family, and Robin proceeded to make 
ready. 

“You don’t like them folks, do you?” said Than- 
ny, sympathetically, as he took another reef in the 
sail to soothe their passengers’ anxiety. “Your 
cheeks are as red as beets. It was all-fired mean of 
Ken to go ofi. Saul says that he and that French 
boy ain’t up to any good.” 

“ What French boy?” Their passenger had stepped 
to the side of the boat, and, hidden by the sail, had 
heard Thanny’s remarks. 

“ It’s Dave Freneau, sir — only just a boy that works 
in the glass factory over to Sandford,” replied Than- 
ny, politely, but with an aside to Robin to the effect 
that some people had a large bump of curiosity. 

“ He must be John Freneau’s son — the boy I want 
to see,” Robin heard the gentleman say to his wife. 

“ You don’t think that his father’s pretended dis- 
covery amounted to anything?” the latter remarked. 

“It may have amounted to nothing, and it may 
have been valuable. The man guarded it with almost 
insane jealousy. The question is whether the boy 
knows anything about it.” 

Robin listened wonderingly. “ Dave knows that 
■was what Ken was always saying triumphantly ; and 
this man—a man, not a boy like Ken — had spoken 
as if what Dave knew might be of real importance. 

“ What was he saying about Dave Freneau ?” whis- 
pered Thanny, eagerly, as he helped Robin to bring 


9 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

the boat alongside the slip for the greater convenience 
of their passengers. “ I’ll tell you who he is — the 
man that Freneau used to worji for, the man that he 
used to rave about down in Steve Prettygo’s shop. 
He said his foreman tried to cheat him out of some- 
tliing he’d invented, or found out, or something. I 
guess he was mad with everybody that had any 
money; that was the way with old Freneau, though 
some think he was wronged. He’d better have set 
Annette after the folks that wronged him ! Oh, but 
ain’t Annette Freneau the girl? That boy Dave is 
quieter, but I guess he’s deep. Saul thinks so. 
I’ll tell you what it is” — Thanny spoke lower still, 
and with an air of great importance — ‘‘some folks 
think that Dave knows what his father discovered, 
though he was too careful to put it into writiii’ where 
anybody could come acrost it. Steve Prettygo thinks 
Dave’s got it tattooed into his skin, but Saul says he 
got that out of a book. He’s always reading books, 
Steve Prettygo is. Some thinks your Ken knows all 
about it, him and Dave’s so thick. It’s something 
about glass, because Freneau used to boast that it 
would be worth a million dollars to Hallet & Close. 
He said this Mr. Rawlins tried to get it for nothing, 
but I shouldn’t wonder if he was kind o’ crazy. Saul 
thinks — ” 

' The party was coming into the boat by this time, 
the boy leaning on his father’s arm, and contracting 
his brows as if every motion caused him pain. He 
insisted upon establishing himself in the stern, and 
taking charge of the helm, while the girls perched 
themselves up in the bow. 

The boy, whom his relatives called Duke, talked 


10 THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

continually in a thin, high -keyed voice, which 
sounded oddly like a very old man’s. lie asked in- 
numerable questions, and as Thanny was an animated 
bureau of information, they proved very genial com- 
panions. Thanny knew the exact number of barrels 
of mackerel in the greatest catch on record, the 
amount of Quansett’s annual shipment of cran- 
berries, and the number of boys and girls hired to 
pick them ; the length of the sea-serpent which Steve 
Prettygo had seen off Pebbly Peach, and the amount 
of game to be found in Deeprnouth woods. When 
statistics grew stale he told thrilling stories of the 
winter storms, and of the “Portergee” bark wrecked 
on the Chunks. Once when Pobin differed from 
him a little on a point of fact he referred to Ken as 
his authority. 

“Ken? Ken who?” demanded the lame boy, at 
once. “ I went to school with a boy of that name 
once. It was at St. Luke’s, up in New Hampshire. 
Wasn’t he a fine fellow, though! The best one I 
ever knew. I’d give something to see him again. 
You see, I — I’m lame, and I was a little fellow then, 
too, and he looked out for me, and punched a fel- 
low’s head for me.” 

The best fellow he ever knew 1 Of course it was 
Ken ; it would be like him to befriend a lame boy. 
Pobin’s heart warmed ; she would believe in Ken, in 
spite of his apparent selfishness and Saul Baker’s 
suspicions that “ he and the French boy were up to 
no good.” 

“What was the fellow’s name that you were 
talking about? Ken — Kenelm isn’t common, you 
know,” continued the boy. “ It must be Ken 


11 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

Dinsrnore. Are you really Ken Dinsmore’s sis- 
ter 

“ Isn’t it just too lovely for anything that we’re 
coming here to live?” cried the ^munger girl, whom 
they called Kitty, a blond girl of fourteen, given to 
superlatives and little hops and screams. ‘‘Duke will 
like it now that he has found a friend here. And 
I’m perfectly crazy to get here.” 

Kobin thought she should not be more surprised 
if the King of the Peacocks in Jean’s fairy -book 
had proposed to set up his court on the Chunks. 
They were so dainty and elegant, and their clothes 
were of a fashion quite unknown even to the Sand- 
ford dress-makers. 

“Is this Ken’s boat?” asked Duke. “I’m going 
to have a boat ; the doctor said I must live out-of- 
doors. Ken doesn’t have a tutor, does he ?” 

“ He goes to the Sandford High - school,” replied 
Kobin. “ He didn’t want to go after vacation, but 
now he wants to study chemistry, so I think he will 
go.” 

“ Chemistry — that’s what smells so orfle, ain’t 
it?” asked Thanny. “That’s what Dave Freneau 
was up to, down in Sears’s old shop. Some said he 
was trying to make stuff that would blow folks up. 
Annette would, anyhow. She chased Tommy Sears 
half a mile with the poker for saying her father was 
an old blowhard. And he was, too.” 

“Annette has had a hard time,” said Kobin, apolo- 
getically. “She’s only fifteen, and she and Dave are 
all alone in the world, and I don’t know whether 
any one is very good to them.” 

“You’d better not try to be good to Annette if 


12 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN” 


you don’t want your head broke!” said Thanny, 
concisely. 

‘‘ Do you go to school ?” asked Kitty, feeling her- 
self and her thirst for information to have been in 
the background all too long. 

“No, I can’t be spared. I have lessons with papa 
when he is strong enough, and I teach the others, 
and I have to help Moira. She’s an old Irishwoman, 
our only servant,” explained Kobin. 

“ Then you’re of use in the world ; that’s the great 
thing,” said the older girl, whom her sister called 
Peggy ; she was sixteen, Robin thought, and her 
gloves were entraneingly long, and a hat just like 
hers could have come from nowhere but Paris. 
Robin found it vaguely surprising that such a senti- 
ment should proceed from beneath that hat. 

She found herself drawn on to further confidences 
concerning the twins’ quaint speeches and Moira’s 
queerness, and her new friends were full of interest 
and sympathy. 

Robin’s spirits were high when the Mary Ann’s 
prow was turned homeward after leaving the party 
at the Qnansett pier. 

“They seemed like girls I used to know,” she said 
to herself, “and they didn’t seem to think me very 
queer.” The same fair wind which was speeding the 
Mary Ann would bring the Flying Scud home 
from Kingstown, she thought. 

But the Flying Scud was very late. Robin went 
down to the slip half a dozen times during the even- 
ing. The wind went down with the sun, and prob- 
ably the maekerel catch had been too great for thrifty 
Saul to leave early. There was no cause for anxiety. 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 


13 


but there was always a half- acknowledged fear in 
Robin’s heart that Ken would run away. 

There at last were the white sails in the moonlight. 
The Scud anchored at her moorings instead of com- 
ing up to the slip, and when all was made right her 
tender set out for the Point instead of the bluffs. 
That was strange, but Robin waited ; Ken might 
have some reason for going over there before coming 
home. The row-boat started out for the Point in a 
few minutes, and Robin drew a long breath of relief. 
But it was only Thanny who came scrambling up 
the bluffs. 

Saul sent me,” he stammered, breathlessly, and 
he said not to scare you or anything. Ken ain’t 
killed nor nothin’ ; he is all right ; but something 
has happened, and — and them two boys they hain’t 
come back !” 


CHAPTER II 


‘‘They haven’t come back? Ken hasn’t come 
back?” repeated Kobin, in a bewildered way, al- 
tbougb it really seemed to her like something that 
she bad known for a long time. 

“You don’t feel an3^ways queer, do jmu? Saul 
told me not to tell you right off sudden, because 
girls faint away, and it’s a lot of trouble to bring 
’em to,” said practical Tbanny. 

“ Tell me all about it, quick, Tbanny !” said Kobin, 
imperatively. 

“ Well, you see, ’twas jest when they was startin’ 
back from Kingstown. ’Twas ’most dark, and there 
wa’n’t a capful of wind ; but Saul be calc’lated 
tbere’d be more outside, and they could manage to 
get home. Them fellers stayed too long up-town ; 
they was up to something ; Saul says so. The}^ bad 
a lot of stuff in bottles and boxes that they got at 
the ’potbecary’s. They went up to the lib’ry, and 
looked at books and things. Cap’n ’Lias Sylvester 
see ’em there, and be told Saul ; they never told where 
they went. That don’t look as if it was for no good, 
lookin’ at books and things, does it ? There’s a lot of 
books about whalin’ and piruts in that lib’ry, but 
Saul sa^^s it’s a waste of time. He says they didn’t 
care nothin’ about the mackerel, more’n as if they 
was minners in the brook.” 


15 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ’’ 

Thanii j, will you tell me where Ken is cried 
Kobin, impatiently. 

“Well, I’m a-comin’ to it. Saul said not to make 
you faint away, because it’s an orfle job — ” 

“ Has Ken run away to sea ?” Kobin’s voice shook, 
in spite of all her efforts to control it. 

“ I don’t see as I am a-goin’ to tell you if you keep 
breakin’ in,” said Thanny, in an aggrieved tone. 
“Kobody knows what they was a-goin’ to do with 
all them boxes and bottles, but they hain’t run away 
to sea.” 

Kobin drew^ a long breath of relief. 

“It’s worse ’n that — at least, for Dave Freneau,” 
continued Thanny. “ You see, it was ’most dark, and 
jest outside of the harbor they come near goin’ ker- 
srnasli into something. Saul says it might have 
been only a log, but he thinks ’twas the wand’rin’ 
buoy. You’ve heard about her — how she got afloat 
three or four years ago, and jest goes a-sailin’ round ? 
Joe Peters saw her ofl the Banks, and some says 
she’s been clearin’ ofl to Chiny, but she comes home 
to the Cape every summer, and don’t go off till about 
the time of the line gale.” 

“Yes, yes, I've heard of it. Thanny, what hap- 
pened to the boys 

“Ain’t I tollin’ you? The Bcud come nigh run- 
nin’ into the buoy ; and fetchin’ her round sudden, 
Dave Freneau got hit by the boom, and knocked off 
into the water. They think his head hit against the 
anchor that wasr layin’ up in the bow. Anyhow, 
when they got him out — Saul and Ken and Hank 
Freeman, they all jumped after him, and got him 
into the tender in no time — they couldn’t fetch him 


16 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

to. He was livin’ and breathin’, but lie didn’t know 
anything. They put right back to the wharf and 
got a doctor, and the doctor had him took up to his 
house. lie said it might be a pretty bad case, and it 
might not ; but Ken he wouldn’t leave him. lie’s 
a-stayin’ to take care of him, and he said you needn’t 
be scared nor worried. And — and somebody’s got to 
tell Annette, and I ain’t a-goin’ to.” 

I’ll go and tell her. Poor Annette !” said Robin ; 
“I suppose she will want to go down to Kingstown.” 

“ It — it’s kind of dark,” said Thanny, digging in 
the sand with his heels in an embarrassed way, “ and 
if you was goin’ anywheres else I wouldn’t let you 
go alone, but me ’n’ Annette Freneau don’t get 
along.” 

“Kever mind, Thanny, Moira will go with me if 
I want any one,” said Robin, carelessly, as she turned 
away. 

She went around to the back porch and called to 
Moira. Jean came running out at the sound of her 
voice. 

‘AYho is hurt? Dave Freneau? Oh, what if it 
had been Ken ? If you’re going to tell Annette, I’m 
going, too.” 

Moira grumbled about her old bones and the 
dangers of Iloneypot Marsh. Dave and Annette lived 
in a little house which had once been a shooting-box 
on the edge of the marsh. Will-o’-the-wisp went 
flitting about the marsh, and Moira was in deadly 
terror of him. 

The little house had been abandoned by its owners, 
and the French family had occupied it rent free for 
nearly a year, their rights undisputed except by an 


17 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

army of mice and spiders, which Annette’s energy 
had at length put to rout. It was a rough place, but 
invitingly neat and bright inside. 

They knocked loudly in vain, until at length the 
door was suddenly thrown open, and Annette ap- 
peared, holding a lamp over her head, its light show- 
ing a very cross face, with heavy brows contracted 
and thick lips pouting. 

Annette was tall for fifteen, and her face would 
have been attractive if it had not been so cross. Her 
cheeks had a pretty color, her large mouth showed 
the whitest of teetli, and the jet-black hair that was 
combed straight back from her white forehead hung 
in a lieavy braid almost to the bottom of her dress. 

“ Why you not stop knocking when I say I come?” 
she demanded, angrily. “ I hollair that I come, but 1 
have my hands in the bread. What is the matter? 
Why you look so at me ?” 

“Dave!” said Eobin ; and the color went out of 
Annette’s face as a lamp is blown out by the wind. 
“We hope it isn’t very bad, but there has been an 
accident,” continued Eobin. “ Dave was knocked off 
the Flying Scud^ Cap’n Saul Baker’s boat. His head 
was hurt, and the doctor thought he w’ould better 
stay at Kingstown. My brother stayed with him.” 

“ I wish he keep away from your brother ! I wish 
he keep with himself! Why has not your brother 
got hurt instead of Dave?” cried Annette, shrilly. 
And then her voice broke suddenly. “ Oh, my 
Dave ! my Dave !” she sobbed. 

“ I thought perhaps you would like to go down to 
Kingstown if the boys didn’t come home to-morrow,” 
Eobin said. She had taken Annette’s hand, and 
2 


18 THE MATE OF THE “mARY ANN ” 

pressed it sympathetically, but Annette snatched it 
away roughly. 

“ How can I go ? If I never see my Dave again I 
cannot go. I have not the money. I have not the 
cent !” She opened her hand, and shook her pocket 
expressively. 

haven’t the money, either,” said Robin. ‘‘Hot 
enough to go in the cars, but I thought we might go 
in our boat, if you were not afraid. I wouldn’t dare 
to go so far outside alone, but perhaps Cap’n Saul 
Baker or Steve Prettygo would go with us.” 

“ Go with those men that have lai^gli and call me 
names ? I will not !” cried Annette. “ How could 1 
go ? They would turn me off from work, and Dave 
would starve. How that wicked Mr. Rawlins have 
come here — he that have let his man rob and ruin 
my father — it will be wmrse !” 

“ I don’t believe he is bad ; you said the girls were 
so nice, Robin,” said Jean, who never lost an oppor- 
tunity of expressing her opinion. 

“You say he is not bad?” cried Annette. “That 
is because he is like you — all you rich people that rob 
the poor.” 

“ Oh, Annette, we’re not rich !” said Robin. “ W e’re 
as poor as — as — ” 

“ Ya-f en ! Clear out !” cried Annette, shutting 
the door with a bang. 

“ The saints presarve ns ! If iver I seen the loikes 
iv tliim Frinch !” cried Moira. “ The hay then spache 
iv her do be enough to drive a Christian wild !” 

“ You might have known she would be rude to you, 
Robin,” said Jean. “ She is rude to every one ; she 
is perfectly horrid.” 


ANNETTE APPEARED HOLDING A LAMP OVER HER HEAD 










I 



19 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

Both Jean and Moira had expressed these unquali- 
fied opinions in a loud tone, and Annette’s window 
was open. Annette’s head was suddenly thrust out 
of it, the long braid waving wildly. 

“ Ya--0 en ! Clear-r-r out !” she repeated, shrilly. 

Paddy of the petticoats, and you, Jean of the clove 
lozenges! Shame on you for a cheat, Jean of the 
clove lozenges !” 

Jean’s face was scarlet in the moonlight. “You 
ought to know better than to — than to — have any- 
thing to do with such dreadful people,” she stam- 
mered. “ See what you get by it. And mamma 
doesn’t like it at all.” 

“ What does she mean by clove lozenges, J ean 
asked Bobin, wonderingly. 

“I— I— 'Whatis thatr 

Bobin thought that J ean was only trying to evade 
an explanation in this mysterious matter of the clove 
lozenges ; but Moira cried out in terror, and, turning, 
Bobin saw close behind them an advancing light. 

“ Jack-o’-the-lanthern ! . Kiver let on that ye sees 
the rashkill 1” cried Moira, running as fast as her old 
legs would carry her. Jean ran also, and Bobin was 
tempted to follow — it was a lonesome road, and the 
fears of the others were contagious — when suddenly 
the sound of a horse’s hoofs reached her ears. 

“ I beg your pardon. Why, it’s Miss Bobin 1” 
The lantern which the rider held up showed her 
Duke Bawlins’s face. “Pm trying to find the house 
where that Freneau boy lives,” he said. 

“You have just passed it; the trees hide it,” said 
Bobin. “ But Dave isn’t there.” And then she told 
the story of the accident. 


20 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAEY ANN” 

A wrinkle of anxious sympathy grew between 
Duke’s brows as he listened. ‘‘They’ll need help 
more than ever,” he said. “Father didn’t like old 
Freneau. I suppose he was insolent. I’m afraid he 
won’t want his children in the factory. I want to 
give them a little money.” 

“They wouldn’t take it,” said Robin. “At least, 
I don’t think Dave would, and I’m sure Annette 
wouldn’t.” 

Jean had come up, reassured and full of curiosity. 
“ Indeed she wouldn’t take it ! She’d tell you. to ‘ va- 
tong, clear out !’ as she told us,” she said, with a bet- 
ter imitation of Jean’s manner than of her French. 

Duke looked disheartened. “I don’t know how 
to get along with girls so very well, anyway,” he 
said. “But a fellow like me, who knows what it is 
to suffer, thinks about the hard times that such peo- 
ple have.” 

“ If they should be really in want of anything, I 
will let you know,” said Robin. “ I think you are 
very good,” she added, heartily. 

“ Boys don’t usually care, you know,” explained 
Jean. “ If they have a bicycle and a gun, they don’t 
think of anything else.” 

Duke suggested that he should ride along with, 
them to save them from another possible fright, but 
Robin positively declined the escort, knowing that 
Moira would only draw a peaceful breath when he 
and his lantern were out of sight. In fact, they 
found Moira at a safe distance, fairly quaking with 
terror, and she insisted upon feeling of Robin’s and 
Jean’s bones, to be sure that they were sound. And 
she beguiled the homeward way with thrilling tales 


THE MATE OF THE MAR Y ANN ” 21 

of people who had been ‘‘led asthray by that ould 
rashkill Jack-o’-lanthern.” 

Ill the middle of the night Jean awakened Robin, 
standing beside her bed, like a ghost, in her white 
night-gown. 

“I can’t sleep till I tell you about the clove loz- 
enges, Robin,” she said, with a dry sob. 

Robin had been dreaming that Annette had turned 
into a Will-o’-the-wisp, and was beguiling her into 
the Iloneypot, and then, suddenly, she was the wan- 
dering buoy, with a face as long as the reflection of 
a face in a spoon, and was pelting her with clove loz- 
enges. 

“ I don’t believe it is anything so very bad, Jean,” 
she said, for Jean’s repentance was apt to be out of 
proportion to the offence. “Won’t it keep until 
morning ? I’m so sleepy !” 

“I can’t sleep at all, Robin,” answered Jean, dole- 
fully. “ I don’t know how the twins will grow up. 
And to think of that girl knowing it and all ! And 
old Mr. Sears looked very queer.” 

“ What did you do, Jean ?” Robin was wide awake 
by this time, and had drawn Jean down beside her 
on the bed. 

“ You see, they had a great many clove lozenges 
down at Bethune’s store, and they were not so very 
fresh. I supposed people would buy the other kinds 
out of the box, and the clove ones would be left 
— they are not so nice as peppermint and checker- 
berry, you know — until there was a great lot of 
them, and they sold them for a cent a paper. Little 
Hannah Blodgett told the twins, and Posy wanted to 
go down and buy some. She said she didn’t like 


22 


THE MATE OF THE MAKY ANN ” 

clove lozenges very well, but they were so much for 
a cent. They had three cents apiece and I had four, 
and just as w^e got there an idea popped into iny 
head. We bought ten papers of the clove lozenges, 
and then we went into old Mr. Sears’s store and 
asked him to change them. I didn’t say we had 
bought them there, but of course he thought so. I 
said we didn’t like clove very well, and I thought we 
w’ould take the money’s worth of mixed candy and 
dates. Eobin, he gave us thirty cents’ worth! Of 
course he thought we gave three cents a paper for 
the lozenges. Oh, Eobin, what shall I do? And little 
Joey Fickett, whose sister works in the glass factory 
with Annette F reneau, saw us. He was in both stores ; 
I remember it, now. That’s how Annette knew. 
Joey ran back to Bethune’s. I think he was going to 
do it himself. Isn’t it dreadful, Eobin? And I 
have thought a great deal about the twins’ morals ; 
I really have.” 

‘‘It is pretty bad, Jean, certainly,” said Eobin, 
gravely concealing her opinion that this sharp prac- 
tice on guileless Jean’s part was a little funny also. 
“ I think you will have to go down and tell Mr. Sears 
about it, and pay him the difference, for of course he 
wouldn’t have changed them if he hadn’t supposed 
you bought them of him.” 

Jean shrank visibly. “ Oh, Eobin, I believe you are 
worse than papa would have been, only I didn’t want 
to worry him. Do you think I inust go and tell him ?” 

“ I would go for you,” said Eobin, “ but that 
wouldn’t be the same thing. It isn’t such a dreadful 
thing, Jean. He will know that you didn’t stop to 
think.” 


23 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ’’ 

“ I suppose it must have been the devil,” said Jean, 
plaintively. 

“ I’ll lend you the money if you are short,” said 
Hobin, after a little pause, during vdiich she had care- 
fully computed that she had twenty cents which 
could be spared. 

“ Short !” echoed Jean, expressively. ‘‘ Perhaps 
you think I have four cents every day in the week — 
like a Vanderbilt or somebody. It’s too bad to take 
your money, but I’ll pay you, Eobin. I’ll go to see 
Mr. Sears the first thing in the morning. I shall 
almost hope that the earth will open and swallow me, 
but I’ll go.” 

The stores at Quansett were three-quarters of a 
mile away, but Jean returned from her trying errand 
before breakfast-time. 

‘‘ It wasn’t quite so bad as I expected,” she confid- 
ed to Robin, who was helping Moira to make break- 
fast-cakes. “ Not quite so bad, although Mr. Sears 
laughed, and looked as if he didn’t like it very well 
either, and Granny Nickerson kept chuckling and 
chuckling to herself. The store wasn’t open, so I 
went around through the garden into the house. 
Mr. Sears was writing at that queer old secretary in 
the room with the wainscoting and the polished 
fioor. Joey Pickett did try to change his lozenges, 
but Mr. Sears wouldn’t do it ; he said he began to 
think something was wrong. And before night half 
the children in Quansett had come to change clove 
lozenges. Bethune sold out. Oh, Robin, I was so 
ashamed! Granny Nickerson looked through and 
through me with her little sharp eyes. You would 
have thought she hadn’t seen anybody so dread- 


24 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

fill in all the hundred years that they say she has 
lived. When I said, ‘Kobin said I must pay the dif- 
ference,’ she said : ‘ Who is Robin ? Oh, you’re the 
minister’s daughter. Then it must have been your 
sister Robin who shook Winky Smith for tormenting 
a cat. She took the cat home — a little starved yel- 
low thing.’ ‘ Oh, that was our Plioebe Cowslip. She’s 
fat enough now,’ I said. ‘That was the way Robin 
got her, I remember now. She’s always getting some 
starved creature and feeding it.’ She kept asking 
me questions about you, and I said that you took 
care of us all, because papa was ill, and poor mamma 
was so sensitive that she couldn’t help crying at 
everything, and Ken was only a boy. I said, ‘If 
you’re a hundred, as people say, you must know 
what boys are.’ ” 

“ Oh, Jean, I’m afraid that wasn’t very polite !” 
said Robin. 

“ ‘ I know more’n that ; I know what girls are, 
too,’ she said, and she kept giving those dreadful 
little chuckles, and of course, considering what 
I had come for, I felt — well, awfully cheap, and 
wished I hadn’t said anything about boys. She 
wanted to talk about you, and I praised you up, but 
I said, too, that you made us walk Spanish, and then 
she chuckled more than ever, and said it was well that 
we had you. When I came away she called after me 
that we should remember the clove lozenges, you 
and I both, as long as we lived. I think I shall, but 
she needn’t have said it ! And she told me to tell 
you to go on taking care of suffering animals, for 
there were too many who didn’t think anything 
about them. But you mustn’t think too much of cats, 


jean’s confession to MR. SEARS. 





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THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 


25 


or you would be an old maid, and live to be a hundred ! 
Isn’t she the very funniest old woman you ever saw ? 
I looked back through the window as I went away, 
and she was hitching across the floor — she went just 
as if she had been wound up, like a walking doll, 
and she pushed Mr. Sears away from the secretary, 
so that she could sit down and write. What do you 
suppose she wanted to write, Hobin? They say that 
she hasn’t any relations in the wide world.” 

The day passed without any news from Ken. 
Dave was probably seriously injured, Kobin thought, 
and Ken would not leave him ; that was like Ken. 
But if Dave could be moved, the question of expense 
might be a serious one to the boys. It was probable 
that their joint finances had been absorbed by those 
mysterious purchases at the druggist’s which had so 
disturbed the inquiring mind of Thanny Baker. 

She went to bed that night firmly resolved to get 
to Kingstown in some way — the next day, if no news 
came from Ken. Her father was full of anxiety, 
which was very bad for him in his weak condition, 
and her mother had said that “ it really seemed as 
if Kobin might have influence enough over Ken to 
keep him away from that boy.” 

Kobin slept lightly, and was wide awake in an 
instant when a little shower of gravel tinkled on her 
window in the gray of the morning. She sprang up 
with a joyful expectation of seeing Ken. But it was 
Annette Freneau who stood down in the driveway 
with a sullen, tear-stained face upturned to the win- 
dow. She held something in her hand, carefully 
folded in a napkin, which she opened as soon as she 
saw Kobin. 


26 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

‘‘ Behold ! it is a tartine ! It is made of the 
little marsh strawberries, and they are sweet. It 
is for peace. It is because I was angry and said bad 
things. You have meant to be kind — as well as you 
knew how. I do not think you are like the med- 
dlers ; they enrage me. So it is for peace, and to 
say that I am ashamed, that I have made the tartine. 
Will you have it?” Annette’s expression was serious 
and anxious. 

“Why — wdiy, you needn’t have, you know ; but I’m 
sure it is very nice, and I shall like it very much,” 
stammered Robin, somewhat at a loss for words, since 
her previous experience had never included a “ tartine 
of peace.” She ran hastily down-stairs. “AYe will 
row over to the Point and see if we can get Cap’n 
Saul to take us down to Kingstown in his boat. See! 
it is too rough outside for the Mary Ann to-day.” 
They were standing on the piazza, and Robin pointed 
to tlie white caps. 

“ I care not for roughness if I come to my Dave,” 
said Annette, with tears in her great black eyes. 

The three girls went over to the Point together, 
Robin and Jean rowing, and Annette hindering 
more than she helped by energetic but unskilful 
steering. 

Saul Baker w’as already at his boat-landing with 
nets and lines. “ I don’t see exactly how I’m goin’ 
to make it pay,” he said, when the girls had made 
their errand known. “But I agreed to fetch up 
some groceries for Mr. Sears some day this week, 
and there is a fair wind, and I can’t help thinkin’ 
consid’able about them boys myself. I guess I’ll go. 
I’ll be over to your slip in half an hour.” 


THE MATE OF THE “mAEY ANN” 27 

The three girls were waiting on the slip when 
Thanny set out in the Flying Scud^s tender to take 
them on board. 

Thanny stared at Annette in undisguised dismay. 

She ain’t goin’ ?” he whispered to Eobin. “She’ll 
be unlucky to go to sea with, just like a cat or a 
minister ; now you’ll see!” 

“ Thanny, how can you talk such nonsense !” re- 
turned Eobin, severely. 

“We’ve got a potato-patch that needs hoein’, any- 
how,” said Thanny; “ and I don’t expect she’ll want 
me to go. She fired stones at me once. And she 
chased Tommy Sears with the pok — ” 

“ I have heard that before,” said Eobin, with great 
dignity. “She is in trouble, and we must be kind 
to her.” 

“ I hain’t no objection to bein’ kind to her,” said 
Thanny, sulkily ; “ but she’ll fire something at me 
before the day’s over — you’ll see 1” 

This conversation was carried on in a low tone, 
while Eobin sat in the stern of the row-boat, facing 
Thanny, who was rowing, and who, with Annette in 
the boWy evidently felt like a soldier whose back is 
exposed to the enemy’s fire. 

But Thanny boarded the Flying Scud like a man, 
and said no more about the potato-patch. 

The Flying Scud was a somewhat clumsy fishing- 
boat, scarcely worthy of her name. But “give her a 
fair wind and somebody that knew how to handle 
her, and she was pretty sure to get there,” as Cap’n 
Saul said. The wind was variable to-day after they 
got outside, and the sea choppy, and Annette grew 
white about the lips — a circumstance which had the 


28 THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

effect of raising Thannj’s spirits. Sea-sick people 
would not be apt to ‘‘fire things,” he refiected. 

All the choppy waves were passed at length, and 
the Flying IScud thrust her blunt nose up through the 
numerous vessels that lay at the long, long Kingstown 
pier. The girls made their way quickly up to the 
main street of the town, with its rows of little shops, 
which on one side had the sea at their back doors, 
and on the other were overshadowed by great sand- 
dunes, which threatened to slide down and swallow 
them up — a queer, foreign-looking little street, with 
dark Portuguese faces here and there, and pictu- 
resque, ear-ringed sailors. A fat and shuffling old 
man, the town-crier, was going along the sidewalk, 
ringing a bell, and announcing in a monotonous 
chant, like a priest’s, that the bark Peveril, of so 
many tons burden, had arrived from a foreign port, 
and those who followed him far enough could learn 
of just what the PeveriVs cargo consisted. 

“ I knew it never grew like any other town !” cried 
Jean. “It blew here, sand and all, right out of a 
story-book.” Every one lived on this same street, 
beyond the stores, the doctor among the rest, and the 
girls hurried along towards his house. Cap’n Saul 
had warned them to be in haste, lest the wind should 
go down. He had gone in search of Mr. Sears’s 
groceries, thereby insuring his own honest penny. 

A group standing in front of a little fruit and con- 
fectionery shop brought Kobin to a sudden halt. 
“Wait just a minute, girls! There are Julia and 
Martha Hallett, and Miss Ferris, their governess.” 

The Hallett girls were dressed in the daintiest of 
summer finery — far too much finery for the occa- 


29 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

sion it was — and Robin was aware of it ; but she be- 
came at once painfully conscious of the salt-water 
stains and the conspicuous darn of her old boating- 
dress, and of the general disreputableness of Jean’s 
outgrown brown flannel. 

“ What do you care for those girls ?” cried Jean ; 
and Robin flushed, half with shame and half with 
anger, at Jean’s quick discovery of her weakness. An 
older sister and mentor should not have weaknesses. 
“ Come along! You’ll never have any fun if you’re 
clothesy,” continued the sharp little sister. 

‘‘ Is it of me that you are ashamed ?” cried Annette, 
who, in her way, was quick also. “ Ah, those girls ! 
It is I who know them!” Her face flushed and 
darkened into a flerce scowl. “ I will not walk on 
the same ground with them ! I will not — ” 

She broke away from her companions to run across 
the street, when suddenly she caught sight of another 
person in the group, who had been hidden by the 
Ilallett girls’ draperies and feathers. It was Ken. 
Robin and Jean saw him at the same moment. 
Annette rushed into the group, pushing the girls 
roughly aside, and seizing Ken by the arm. 

“ Where is my Dave ? Is he alive ? What have 
you done with my Dave ?” she cried, fiercely. 


CHAPTER III 


The Ilallett girls shrank away from Annette, as 
was quite natural, since the elbows which she had 
used so freely were very sharp, and Ken shook off 
her grasp from his arm somewhat impatiently. But 
he answered her gently enough. 

“Dave got a bad hurt, poor old chap. I’ve just 
been to the station to see about getting him home. 
Why, Kobin — Jean !” 

The Ilallett girls saw them at the same time, and 
there was a chorus of effusive greetings. 

“It’s such an age since we’ve seen you, and we’re 
so lonesome since the Bawlins girls went home! 
You didn’t come to our barn dance. Such a time as 
we had! And, just think! Margaret Bawlins wants 
to be a hospital nurse — and we didn’t know what to 
make of the boy — and do you think — ” 

“We must hurry,” interposed Bobin. “We are 
going to take Dave Freneau home in Cap’n Saul 
Baker’s boat.” 

“ Oh, the French boy who was hurt ? I am so sorry 
for him !” said Julia, with a kindly glance at Annette. 

“ I’m so sorry, too,” chimed Martha ; “ but oh, we 
can’t let you go ! We want to have some fun. And 
we’re trying to get rid of Miss Ferris ” — this in a 
thrilling whisper, while the governess was absorbed 
in surveying the sand-dunes through her glasses. 


31 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

There’s no need of your going to the doctor’s, 
Robin,” suggested Ken. He will send Dave down 
to the wharf in his carriage. Annette can come if 
she likes.” Annette clasped her hands with an eager 
gesture. 

‘‘ Tell Annette how Dave is ; she is so anxious,” 
said Robin. 

‘‘He seems well enough; he is almost strong 
enough to walk,” answered Ken. 

“ If he is getting strong so fast, that is everything,” 
said Robin, joyfully. 

“No, it isn’t everything,” answered Ken, gloomily, 
as he walked off with Annette towards the doctor’s. 

What was the mystery about Dave? Did Ken 
mean that he was maimed or disfigured for life? 
This thought haunted Robin in the midst of the 
Hallett girls’ chatter. 

“We’ve got to get rid of her,” Julia Hallett was 
whispering in her ear, with a side glance at the gov- 
erness, “ because I am determined to eat quahaug 
chowder in that restaurant” — pointing to a somewhat 
dingy door — “and Julia wants to go to the apothe- 
cary’s without her. Poor Ju! She has heard of 
something that will take off freckles, but Miss Ferris 
says it’s dangerous; that’s nonsense, of course, be- 
cause Julia couldn’t look any worse. I’m going to 
try a w^ay that Kitty Rawlins told me of to get rid 
of Miss Ferris. Kitty keeps a list of awfully hard 
words. Miss Ferris, will you please tell me what a 
kerdooshus is?” Martha had approached the gov- 
erness, and spoke in a most soft and docile tone. 

“ A wKat^ my dear? I’m sure I never heard the 
wmrd,” said Miss Ferris, in perplexity. 


32 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 




“Would you mind going over to tlie library and 
looking it up ? I can’t get it out of rny mind,” said 
Martha, plaintively. 

“We can look it up when we get home,” said Miss 
Ferris, surprised by this thirst for knowledge. 

“ I think if I could know to-day I should never 
forget it.” 

Miss Ferris hesitated ; she was aware that there 
were many not uncommon words which she did not 
know. She had a vague recollection of having heard 
such a word as this. It might save humiliating dis- 
closures of ignorance for her to discover its mean- 
ing. It was so hot that the shade and seclusion of 
the library would be grateful, and she could think of 
no great mischief which her pupils could get into ; 
so she went, obligingly, bidding them rejoin her at 
the station. 

There was a heated discussion concerning the rival 
claims of the quahaug chowder and confectionery 
and cosmetics. Kobin settled it by saying that she 
w^as afraid they couldn’t stay for the chowder any- 
way, but she must go to the apothecary’s to get 
some FTew England rum for Moira to bathe her feet, 
which were often very painful. They made their 
way, accordingly, to a trim little shop which boasted 
as much peacock-blue and yellow glass as any city 
apothecary shop of them all. 

Julia and Martha Hallett both invested in candy 
to a great extent, and then Julia spent so much time 
in inquiring about the rival merits of a variety of 
freckle lotions that Robin despaired of ever finding 
an opportunity to make her modest purchase. She 
had a vision of Caphi Saul wrathfully setting sail 


THE MATE OF THE “mARY ANN ” 


33 


and leaving them to their fate ; of the Flying Scud 
becalmed in the dead of the night, miles from home, 
and of Dave Freneau made desperately ill again by 
the discomfort and delay. 

The purchases were completed at last, and Robin 
hurried off with her little bottle, positively declining 
the urgent invitation of the Hallett girls to have 
some soda-water. 

“ Here ! did you take that piece of paper off the 
desk?” she heard some one call out to the clerk 
from an inner room. 

‘‘ I don’t know but that I wrapped something up 
in it,” the clerk replied. ‘‘ The paper ran short, and 
one of them was in such a hurry. There was some 
writing on it, but I didn’t think it amounted to 
anything.” 

“/Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said the proprietor, appear- 
ing in the doorway of the inner room. And they 
heard him add to the clerk : “ I made a note on that 
paper of the queer mixture that that boy wanted 
the other day. We didn’t have half the stuff, you 
know. He seemed so excited about it that I had 
some curiosity. But I dare say it doesn’t amount to 
much.” 

Robin was scarcely conscious of hearing what he 
said, in her anxiety to be off; but afterwards she 
remembered. It was very difficult to get aw’ay from 
the Hallett girls. There was still a full half-hour 
before it was necessary for them to go to the station. 
They were sure that Miss Ferris woiild not be there 
until the very last minute; they even cherished hopes 
of getting left and staying all night at the Puritan 
House. 


34 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ’’ 

“ It will take her a good while to find out that 
word,” said Martha, complacently. “ It’s something 
about Mercury. She doesn’t know much. You 
couldn’t have caught Miss Pritchard, our old one, in 
that way. Oh, I wish we could go up with you in 
the boat. But I suppose it really wouldn’t do to give 
Miss Ferris the slip in that way.” 

“ We really must go,” interrupted Kobin, drawing 
Jean away, and leaving unanswered half the urgent 
invitations to visit them which Julia and Martha 
called after them. 

They found the rest of the party already on board 
the Flying Scud, and Cap’n Saul very impatient. 
Bobin caught sight of Dave sitting up in the bow ; 
he looked a little pale, but quite like himself, and 
sat up as if the cushions and shawls which they had 
provided were quite superfluous. But Annette, sit- 
ting beside him, had a distressed and tear-stained 
face. “ What did she mean by behaving like that, 
when Dave was so much better than they had dared 
to hope?” thought Bobin, indignantly. 

“ Come down here a minute, Bobin,” called Ken, 
as she was going to speak, first of all, to Dave. Ken 
was in the stern, taking charge of the helm. “ I 
wouldn’t go up there yet, you or Jean, either ; I want 
to tell you something first,” he added, mysteriously. 

Cap’n Saul’s voice broke in, shouting to Thanny 
to ‘‘shove her off,” and the next instant a wild 
chorus of cries came from the wharf. 

“ Oh, wait a minute, do, please — wait a minute and 
take us, too! We coaxed Miss Ferris — tlie train is 
so hot and cindery. And we don’t mind in the least 
if the boat is fishy 1” 


35 


THE MATE OF THE ‘^MAEY ANN ” 

Julia and Martha Hallett were both shouting to- 
gether, while Miss Ferris, their governess, was utter- 
ing feeble expostulations and prophecies of sea-sick- 
ness. 

‘‘Miss Ferris can go up in front, can’t she? — because 
she is inclined to be sea-sick,” cried Martha, whose 
energies seemed to be mainly devoted to getting rid 
of Miss Ferris. 

Thanny stayed his hand at once, and Cap’n Saul 
helped them on board with alacrity. 

There was more sense in having rich Hallett’s 
daughters for passengers than them Frenchies, 
Thanny whispered ; and Cap’n Saul, in his heart, was 
of much the same opinion. He had heard the old 
people tell that Grandfather Hallett had kept the 
light-house on the Hubble, and his son Reuben, the 
present wealthy manufacturer, had gone fishing and 
worked in the canning factory. 

Annette’s tear-stained face was one angry scowl as 
the party came on board. 

Miss Ferris folded her shawl and sat down upon 
it, so close to Dave that her voluminous draperies 
swept over him. 

Robin was deeply perplexed by Annette’s tears 
and Ken’s mysterious behavior. The girls had 
broken in upon his explanation, and there was no op- 
portunity for it now. 

Dave had to move, now and then, as the sail 
shifted, and when he came in sight of the group be- 
low he looked at them with a wondering, unrecog- 
nizing gaze. He smiled slightly in response to Jean’s 
smile and nod, but Jean said, aside : 

“Dave Freneau seems so queer! He looks just 


36 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

like liimself, but he acts as if he were somebody 
else.” 

“ He says he does not want to go home !” cried 
Annette. He does not know wdiere it is. He does 
not know that I am his sister ! He has forgotten 
everything! It is as if he were not my Dave at 
all!” Annette’s voice broke in sobs. “Oh, make 
him remember, make him remember!” 

Dave surveyed her with an air of abstraction, as if 
this were a scene in which he had no part. He had 
a long, grave, intellectual face, with no resemblance to 
Annette’s, except in the black eyes and lieavy brows ; 
his strong, square chin showed determination. He 
had been a boy who was “up and coming,” according 
to Saul Baker’s description, although Saul had never 
been sure that it was to any good purpose. Bat now 
when the occasional perplexity passed away, Dave’s 
face wore a vacant, spiritless expression that was 
pitiful to see. 

“ Oh, Ken, will Dave ever be himself again ?” 
asked Kobin, seizing an opportunity to perch herself 
beside Ken, who was still at the helm. 

“ The doctor doesn’t know. Some part of his brain 
was hurt, which affects his memory. People who 
were hurt so have recovered.” 

“What will they do, Ken? We can do so little to 
help them,” said Kobin, anxiously. 

“You don’t know the worst! You would think 
that what we were doing was boys’ play !” said Ken, 
his thin boy voice hoarse with feeling. “ His father 
had told him his great invention ; he never dared to 
write anything down, because he had been cheated. 
It was a new way to color glass; cheaper — ever so 


37 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAEY ANN ” 

much cheaper — and the colors wonderful ! lie wasn’t 
crazy or dreaming. I’ve seen specimens that he has 
done. He was years and years in bringing his idea 
to perfection. Dave said the first thing he could re- 
member was his father working at it. Mr. Rawlins’s 
manager tried to get it for nothing, but it wasn’t a 
success then. When he found out the one thing 
that had been lacking, and success was certain, the ex- 
citement brought on the fever of which he died. But 
he wasn’t delirious when he told Dave ! And, Robin, 
there was a fortune in it — a fortune for him — and he 
was going to share with me! What if we are only 
boys? Don’t you see it was sure! And now the 
secret isn’t written on a scrap of paper anywhere, 
and Dave has forgotten 1” 

‘^Do have some candy. Miss Ferris!” It was 
Julia’s voice which broke in as the group drew 
nearer. ‘A^ou needn’t be a bit afraid of sea-sickness, 
for the water has grown quite calm” — as indeed it 
had, to Cap’ll Saul’s dismay. “Well, if she won’t 
have any, Jean, you must carry all tlie rest home 
to tlie twins and Traddles. How, don’t look at 
Robin ! She can’t have her way about everything 
in this world. Here’s a nice, fresh piece of pa- 
per to wrap it in — no, it isn’t either, it’s all written 
over. The idea of that apothecary clerk doing 
candy np in paper all written over with a lead- 
pencil !’’ 

“Hever mind! it’s only on one side,” said Jean, 
who, in truth, was ignobly eager for the candy. 

“Catch it,” said Julia, doing the piece of paper up 
into a ball and tossing it to Jean. “ Oh, there it goes 
overboard ! I didn’t mean to throw it so far. How 


38 


THE MATE OF THE ‘^MAKY ANN ” 

stupid ! You can’t get it, Thanny Baker — there it 
goes bobbing off.” 

Like a flash of light the recollection came to 
Bobin of what the apothecary had said about the 
writing on that paper ! The boy who had wanted 
the queer stuff might have been — probably was 
Dave. Old Freneau’s secret might be written 
somewhere, after all. ‘‘ Oh, get it, get it, get it, 
Thanny !” she cried. 

“ Take care, Thanny ! You’ll go overboard !” cried 
a chorus of voices. 

‘‘ Try, try, Thanny — I’ll hold you !” said Bobin, 
with an eagerness which seemed to the rest of the 
party quite out of proportion to the occasion. 

“Never mind, Bobin,” said Jean; “I can put the 
candy into my pocket without any paj^er. The twins 
and Traddles won’t mind.” 

“The candy! You’re always thinking about can- 
dy!” said Bobin, with an impatience at which Jean 
was surprised and justly offended. “Just one more 
try,' Thanny !” 

And Thanny, with Bobin clinging desperately to 
his legs, thrust out once more the long oar with which 
the Flying Scud was propelled when the wind failed 
her utterly, and triumphantly drew in the little ball 
of crumpled paper which Julia Hallett, with what 
Ken called “ a girl’s shot,” had thrown into the water. 

“ I should like to know of what use it is, all soaked 
with salt-water,” said Jean. 

“ Let me have it, Jean. I want to see what is writ- 
ten on it,” said Bobin. 

“ I didn’t know you had such a bump of curiosity,” 
said Martha Hallett. “Open it carefully or it will 


39 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

tear. You can scarcely read a word. It’s only a pre- 
scription, anyway — ‘oxide’ of something, and ‘sili- 
cate what does that mean ?” 

Eobin slipped the wet and crumpled paper into 
her pocket. The queer words might mean something 
to Ken, or even join some broken links of poor Dave’s 
memory. 

The wind arose suddenly — in obedience to their 
persistent whistling, the Hallett girls declared — and 
the Flying Scud^ in spite of her clumsiness, made 
such good speed that they reached Quansett as the 
first of the village lights began to gleam through the 
dusk. Miss Ferris had telegraphed from Kingstown 
for the carriage to meet them, and they found it wait- 
ing; and Julia insisted, in spite of Annette’s scowls, 
in stowing Dave and her into it, saying they could 
set them down at home without going out of their 
way. By the light of the carriage-lamp Eobin saw 
the unrelenting Annette making faces at her benefac- 
tors behind their backs as the carriage rolled away. 

'‘Old Granny Kickerson died last night,” said 
Cap’n Saul, as he came on board again from the 
wharf. “ She had another stroke, and just dickered 
out like a candle, so Jim Gross said.” 

“ And I saw her only yesterday morning, and she 
was so lively!” said Jean. “But she looked as if a 
breath would blow her away.” 

“A fellow wouldn’t want to live as long as Granny 
Kickerson did, unless he had better luck than I have,” 
said Ken, dejectedly. 

“There ain’t no such thing as luck, commonly 
speakin’. Stiddy days’ works, and there you be,” 
said Cap’n Saul. 


40 TUE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN’’ 

‘‘ If Cap’n Saul could only convince Ken of tlie 
truth of his thrifty maxims he might give up foolish 
schemes that liindered him from his duty and were 
sure to end in disappointment/’ thought Kobin. She 
almost wished that she had let the paper be lost, and 
yet she told him, as they climbed the blufi’s, what it 
might mean to her. 

Ken listened, breathing heavily with excitement. 
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have stayed 
and carried it back to the apothecary if it wasn’t all 
plain !” he cried. “ It isn’t likely that any other boy 
would have bought stuff so queer that the apothecary 
would write it down. Give me the paper — quick, 
Kobin !” 

“ Wait until we get into the house, Ken. I’m afraid 
of tearing it more. It’s carefully folded at the very 
bottom of my pocket,” said Kobin. “ Don’t think 
too much about it, Ken ; there are so few words.” 

“ Well, our ship has come in !” cried Kobin, cheer- 
fully, as they entered the house. There was one 
thing always to be done — to make things cheerful 
at home. “We thought we should be becalmed, 
but — ” 

“Kobin, dear, you have heard?” exclaimed her 
mother, coming to meet them at the door, and clasp- 
ing Kobin in her arms. “ Dear old Granny Kicker- 
son — ” 

“ But she was so old, mamma, and it was peaceful,” 
stammered Kobin, who, not having been acquainted 
with Granny Kickerson, could not feel any of the 
grief which she thought was making her mother 
hysterical. 

“ Oh, my dear, it isn’t that. One cannot mourn — 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN” 41 

your father says one need not mourn,” said lier 
mother. “ But she has remembered you — ” 

“ Eemembered me ? Why, I hardly ever saw her !” 
cried Bobin. 

“ Kemembered you handsomely, darling, though — 
though not, perhaps, altogether as we could wish, 
since she has bequeathed to you Adam, her long- 
tailed monkey, and Banquo, her white cat, as well as 
her cranberry meadow.” 

“ Her cranberry meadow to Robin ! Why, it’s 
worth two thousand dollars!” cried Ken. “And 
there’s going to be a tremendous crop this year ! 
Why to Robin ?” 

“ She seems to have discovered in some way that 
Robin was fond of animals, and she wished her pets 
to be well taken care of. She had bequeathed them 
and the cranberry meadow to several other people 
and then destroyed the wills, she was so anxious. 
The last will was drawn up and signed only yes- 
terday forenoon. Lawyer Chase said he was afraid 
that the excitement caused the stroke ; but since 
she had had two, it was likely to come at any 
time.” 

“The clove lozenges! How queerly things hap- 
pen!” cried Jean. “It was all the clove lozenges! 
That’s what she meant to do when she said we should 
remember them as long as we lived.” 

“ Clove lozenges ?” repeated her mother, pressing 
her hand to her head. “ My dears, what with long- 
tailed monkeys and white cats and cranberry mead- 
ows, and — and now clove lozenges, I am quite bewil- 
dered. And the dear children are so wild over the 
monkey that it’s a little trying.” 


42 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

A shout from the direction of the study confirmed 
this statement, and Mrs. Dinsmore retreated. 

‘‘Oh, Wobin, papa turned us out, he’s so tired. 
And he cwacks nuts wiv his teef — see him ! see him !” 
cried Traddles, who was small for four, and not much 
larger tlian the queer, wizened old monkey, who 
perched himself upon the newel -post, and cracked 
nuts in his sharp little teeth with the air of being 
perfectly at home. 

“ Mr. Sears brought him and the nuts,” explained 
Prim, the serious-minded twin ; “ and he isn’t dan- 
gerous— you needn’t be afraid; but I don’t think 
Traddles ought to take him to bed, as she wants to.” 

“Oh, Pobin, put some nuts in your pocket, and 
see him grab them out ! Papa did, but we don’t dare 
to,” said Posy. 

Kobin obligingly put a handful of the nuts into 
her pocket, and instantly the monkey’s long, lean 
arm was thrust down into the pocket, while he scold- 
ed in so funny and fascinating a way that the chil- 
dren were almost in. convulsions. He made so ener- 
getic a grab that the nuts fiew in every direction, and 
Prim picked up Pobin’s handkerchief in a far corner. 
It was great fun to see him gather up the scattered 
nuts, not missing one, and screaming out angrily if 
the children attempted to touch one. 

“He tried to get the handkerchief. I think he 
would liave torn it to pieces. lie wants everything,” 
said Prim, returning, quite pale, from the corner to 
which the monkey had followed her. He had retired 
behind a hall settle to crack his nuts in peace. 

“ I must go and see papa,” said Pobin, breaking 
away from the numerous demands that she should 


THE monkey’s eong lean arm was thrust pown into the pocket. 







43 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANn” 

beguile tlie monkey from his retreat, and should go 
to see the white cat, and should tell of everything 
she had seen. 

‘‘Wait a minute, Kobin. Give me that paper,” 
said Ken. “ I don’t know how I could have forgot- 
ten that for a moment.” 

Kobin thrust her hand into her pocket, into the 
very bottom where the folded paper had been, but 
there was nothing there except the handkerchief 
which Prim had restored to her. 

Kobin grew red and pale by turns. “ The monkey ! 
he must have taken everything out!” she exclaimed. 
“Oh, why didn’t I think 1 But it must be right here. 
Perhaps Prim picked it up with the handkerchief.” 

But Prim was sure that she had picked up nothing 
with the handkerchief. 

Ken moved the settle, and routed the monkey from 
his retirement. There was no scrap of paper any- 
where. 

“ Perhaps he chewed it up and swallowed it,” sug- 
gested Prim. “ I think that was what he wanted to do 
with the handkerchief. I don’t like to say anything 
against any one, especially before Traddles, but I am 
afraid he’s not a very good monkey.” 

“ kle couldn’t have done anything with it so soon. 
You lost it before you got home. You never took 
any care of it!” cried Ken, angrily. “Wasn’t it 
enough for you to let it be thrown overboard, and 
never tell me anything about it ? anything so precious 
as that. You ought to have understood, the very first 
thing. You would have if you would only have be- 
lieved what a great thing it was that Dave and I 
were doing ! 


44 


TIIE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

‘‘ Oh, Ken, it was in my pocket ! I felt it when 
we were coming up the bluffs ! Oh, I wish I had 
given it to you then !” 

“ It’s such a lot of good to wish now,” sneered 
Ken. “ To think of letting a monkey put his hand 
into your pocket when you had a fortune in it on a 
scrap of paper !” 

“I was so surprised about Granny Kickerson’s 
legacy it drove everything out of my mind,” said 
Kobin. 

Ken was preternaturally calm as lie turned away. 
If he should slam the door when he reached his own 
room it would be almost a relief, thought Kobin. 
Of course it was weak and unmanly to give way to 
temper like that ; she had often on such occasions 
administered a sisterly reproof ; but now there would 
be a crumb of comfort in seeing Ken so like himself 
as that. He did not do it, however ; he walked de- 
liberately up-stairs, and shut his door in a most digni- 
fied manner. 

“ Kow he will surely run away to sea,” thought 
Kobin, despairingly. ‘‘ And it will be all my fault 1” 
She had no heart for the fascinations of the white 
cat, which was established upon Moira’s knee, re- 
sponding to the ancient Irish which she talked to it 
in a way which convinced her that the crathur knew 
enough to tell forchins.” She got the children off 
to bed at what they felt to be a cruelly early hour, in 
view of the great excitements of the evening, and 
she broke away as soon as possible from her father’s 
light-hearted mirth (so unusual with him now) about 
the charges which Granny Nickerson had bequeathed 
to her. In truth, her new possessions, as well as Ken’s 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY AlUN 


45 


JJ 


troubles, were weighing somewhat heavily upon her 
mind. Banquo, the white cat, by himself would have 
been a not unacceptable legacy, but if one could only 
have had the cranberry meadow without Adam ! To 
be fond of him seemed a duty that one owed Granny 
IsTickerson, but Bobin was afraid it was going to be 
difficult ; especially since his first prank had been so 
disastrous. 

Her mind constantly returned to speculations upon 
what he could have done with the paper, and at last 
she arose, lighted her lamp, and prepared to go down- 
stairs. 

‘‘ It may be in some nook or cranny that we over- 
looked,” she said to herself. ‘‘ I am not sure that we 
looked under the little rug by the study door.” She 
started back from the stairs in sudden alarm, as she 
discovered that there was a faint light in the hall 
below. She mustered courage to look over the 
baluster, and saw Ken, with a bit of paper in his 
hand ; there was writing upon it, which he was try- 
ing, with frowning brows, to decipher. ‘‘ Oh, Ken, 
you have found it !” she cried, joyfully. 

It’s a piece of it ! I found it right here by the outer 
door. I don’t see how we could have overlooked it.” 

“ Perhaps he stuck it into some crack, and it fell 
down,” suggested Robin. 

“ It’s small wonder that you should overlook any- 
thing,” growled Ken, remembering, suddenly, that it 
was appropriate for him to be cross. 

“Can you read it, Ken? Can you tell what it 
means ?” 

^^You come here,” said Ken, who was scowling 
over the paper. 


46 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANJS ” 


Eobin looked over bis shoulder. “4 Teckin oni 
moame, 50 cts.,” she read, slowly, aloud. “ I don’t 
know what it means,” she said, but then, I shouldn’t, 
of course. “ I suppose it’s some coloring matter for 

gi_» 

’Sh-h-h ! Do try to remember that it’s a great 
secret !” said Ken. 

‘‘ I didn’t see that on it yesterday,” said Eobin. 
“ It doesn’t look like the same — •” 

And then a light flashed upon her — the meaning 
of those mysterious words! But should she tell 
Ken ? 


CHAPTER IV 


‘‘ I’d ought to have charged, Thaunj,” said Cap’ll 
Saul. He had shown his disturbed feelings by short 
answers and an extreme reserve as soon as they had 
left their passengers at the bluffs, and as they 
touched the wharf at Lobster Point they burst forth 
uncontrollably. 

‘‘ Ain’t you ’shamed now, Saul Baker, to think of 
such a thing as chargin’ Ken and her I” cried Thanny, 
hotly. 

“ If it had been them alone I wouldn’t, if mackerel 
was hollerin’ to be ketched,” said Cap’n Saul; “but 
I hain’t no call to spend my time a-carryin’ of them 
Prenchies round, specially when I know they ain’t 
up to no good, but only a -puttin’ of mischief into 
Ken Dinsmore’s head, where there is enough a’ready, 
jest as there is in any boy’s head, accordin’ to nater, 
only some has got sense enough to overbalance it, 
and some hain’t. If Ken and Miss Kobin— that ain’t 
nothin’ but a gal, anyhow — if they want to stoop to 
themFrenchies, ’tain’t no business of mine, but yet I’d 
ought to show ’em what I think about it, and chargin’ 
would be a good way. You needn’t look kind of 
sneerin’, Thanny Baker ; it’s more that than ’tis 
the money, though it’s the money consid’able, too. 
Them Hallett girls and their teacher paid me half a 
dollar apiece. I said that was enough, considerin’ I 


48 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

was cornin’, anyhow, and havin’ them aboard didn’t 
make no great difference. But how came I there 
that time and the time before? You needn’t say 
that I fetched up groceries enough for Sears either 
time to make it pay, because I didn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t be so mean to a feller that had got 
his head stove in,” muttered Thanny. 

“ If he’d been doin’ his day’s work, instead of goin’ 
down there to get some kind of stuff to blow folks 
up with, he wouldn’t have got his head stove in,” 
said Cap’n Saul. “And ’tain’t neither, no more’n 
mine. I expect he knows jest about as much as 
ever he did, ’n’ that ain’t no great.” 

“ I wisht I knew what that stuff was,” said Thanny, 
forgetting his indignation against his brother in his 
curiosity. 

“ So long as we can get stiddy days’ works, you and 
me can get along without no queer stuff out of the 
’pothecary’s,” said Cap’n Saul. “ But now you look 
a -here! I’m jest goin’ to make out a bill for that 
feller’s passage, and you’ve got to carry it over. It’s 
bright moonlight, and it won’t take you but a few 
minutes. I’m so subject to soft spells that I darsen’t 
wait till mornin’. It’s my duty to do it, and I’m 
a-goin’ to.” 

Cap’n Saul sat down at once, without any regard 
for his supper, after finding a scrap of paper — a scarce 
commodity in the little house at Lobster Point — and 
laboriously made out a bill. There were times when 
even Cap’n Saul wished that he had an “ edication,” 
and this was one of them. 

“ Pothooks and hangers don’t come nat’ral to me, 
and that’s a fact,” he remarked, mopping his face 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN ” 49 

with his bandanna handkerchief, after half an hour 
of labor. “I don’t know but you’d have done it 
better, Thanny; but I don’t calc’late there’s much 
amiss with the spellin’. I expect I’m kind of a nat’ral 
speller, for I never learnt. If folks has got brains 
they can get along without edication.” 

“ I wouldn’t have done it, anyhow,” said Thanny, 
‘‘and I ain’t a-goin’ to take it over.” 

But, nevertheless, Thanny did. When Saul’s mind 
was made up, he had found that resistance was use- 
less. He grumbled while he was eating his supper, 
and he muttered about “mean folks” as he closed 
the door ; but he went. 

“ I shall be ashamed to look her in the face again,” 
he said to himself as he rowed along. “If I was 
carry in’ it to Annette Freneau, I wouldn’t care. 
She’d ought to be charged. I know what I’ll do ; 
I’ll take off half of it, then there’ll be only fifty cents 
for bringing him home. Saul will be all over it by 
to-morrow, and if Ken pays him fifty cents it will be 
all right ; I don’t believe he will take that.” 

So half the bill was torn off, and committed to the 
waves in little bits between Lobster Point and the 
bluffs, and it seemed likely that Ken was destined 
to remain in ignorance of the fact that Cap’n Saul 
had drawn up a bill against him for carrying Dave 
Freneau down to Kingstown. The other half of 
the bill Thanny thrust under tlie front door witli- 
out ringing the bell. 

“I’m in hopes they’ve gone to bed or something, 
and won’t find it, and it will get swep’ up in the 
morning,” said Thanny to himself, as he turned 
away, wiping a not unmanly moisture from his eyes 


50 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN” 

with his sleeve. “I like them folks. I set bj ^em 
all, and I do hate a mean feller,” he continued, feel- 
ing himself to be as unhappy and ill-used a boy 
as ever scrambled barefooted down the bluffs. 

It liappened that the younger members of the 
family had all gone to bed, and neither Mr. or Mrs. 
Dinsmore saw the bit of paper at the hall door, and 
Ken, going down as Kobin had meant to go, for one 
more search for the scrap of paper which the monkey 
had stolen, swooped eagerly upon this fragment of 
Cap’n Saul’s bill, and had no suspicion of his mis- 
take. “ 4r Teckin oni moame !” Perhaps it was not 
remarkable that he could not read it. Cap’n Saul’s 
“ nat’ral ” spelling was certainly different from “ edi- 
cated ” forms. Robin had been completely mystified 
at first; she had thought that “4 Teckin” must be a 
certain amount of oxides, or silicates, or perhaps of 
oni moam.e^'* whatever that might be. Perhaps 
if she had not seen Cap’n Saul’s bills before, its 
true meaning might not have dawned upon her as 
it did. 

“You can’t make it out, can you?” said Ken, 
anxiously. “ But of course you can’t, if I can’t,” he 
added. Ken never liked to admit Robin’s superior 
quickness. 

“ I don’t know anything about such things, you 
know — drugs and chemical preparations,” said Robin, 
slowly. 

“I shall send it down to the apothecary. I 
must go down ; it won’t do to risk anything. Of 
course he will understand this, and it will help him 
to remember the rest. I feel as if I could hardly 
wait until morning !” 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANn” 51 

“ Per — perhaps we shall find the— the rest of the 
paper,” suggested Kobin. 

‘‘I looked everywhere. The monkey probably 
swallowed it,” said Ken. “Don’t make me think 
about it ! It’s enough to drive a fellow crazy. As 
if there were not troubles enough in this house with- 
out a monkey !” 

Kobin lingered in the hall after Ken had gone into 
his room and shut the door. She felt a strong im- 

o 

pulse to cry out to Ken that she was deceiving him. 
She heard him slowly saying over the mysterious 
words, as if he hoped by many repetitions to dis- 
cover their meaning, and she could scarcely restrain 
herself from laughter, which would certainly have 
ended in tears. She could not explain now, for Ken 
would be so angry ; the one thing that he could not 
endure was to be “fooled,” and made ridiculous. 
And, after all, if he should discover what the writing 
meant, he need never know that she had read it al- 
most at once. 

The next day was stormy. When Kobin looked 
out of her window, in the gray of the morning, the 
waves were churning white spray, and tossing it 
over the Chunks as if they were determined to get 
rid of the only rocks they found to fret them along 
the whole cape ; and the window-panes were beaten 
by gusty winds and rain. 

Neither the Mary Ann nor tliQ Flying Scud could 
go to Kingstown today! That was Kobin’s first 
thought, and she heaved a little sigh of relief. But 
she met Ken in the hall with a frown on his face as 
heavy as the sky’s. 

“ I can’t stand it anyway, Kobin. I must go down 


52 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

to Kingstown,’’ Le said, and there was a tremor in 
his voice wliich touclied Kobin’s heart. ‘‘I shall 
walk over to Sandford, and go down on the train. 
I say, Kobin, you have some money, haven’t you ?” 

“Oh, I haven’t, Ken dear! The house 'keeping 
money has run short this month, and we’ve had to 
piece out in every way,” said Robin.. 

“ Of course you would try to hinder me,” said 
Ken, cruelly. “ Though one would think you had 
done about enough. I shall go to my father.” 

“Don’t do that, Ken! he hasn’t any, and it will 
worry him,” said Robin, earnestly. “ I wouldn’t try 
to hinder you, it is very unjust to say so, although I 
do think it is better not to depend on great chances 
like that, which may not amount to anything, es- 
pecially for a boy. It’s so much like gambling ! It 
makes one all — all feverish and discontented. It’s 
better to do just the best one can every day, even in 
a hard place — we are in a hard place, Ken, for proud 
people.” 

“My pride isn’t silly, like yours! I don’t want 
you to think it is !” cried Ken. “ I don’t hustle the 
twins and Traddles out of the way because they are 
a little sticky and have outgrowm their dresses, and I 
don’t give my mind to covering up the darns on the 
drawing-room chairs wnfli horrid little tidies, and I 
wouldn’t stay away from the Hallett girls’ party be- 
cause I had only an old dress, and then have my 
eyes red for a week because I didn’t go! And I 
wouldn't be ashamed of taking people out sailing, 
and think my brother ought to do it, when he has 
much more important business — when everybody 
thinks it’s clever for a girl to manage a boat, too.” 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN ” 53 

“ I know I’m silly about some things,” said Robin, 
with hot cheeks, “ but I’m trying to get over it. And, 
oh, Ken, if you would try to get over being restless, 
and study, as papa wants you to !” 

“Why don’t you try Cap’n Saul’s style — ‘stiddy 
days’ works, and there you be !’ It’s much more to 
the point than your girly preaching.” 

“ It’s true ! what Cap’n Saul says is true !” cried 
Robin. “If he is a little — well, a little stingy, al- 
though it doesn’t seem right to say so, for he has 
always been generous to us.” 

“ I suppose you think it is a good thing that Dave 
Freneau got injured for life, so that the secret of 
making a great fortune has slipped away from him, 
and I shall go fishing for a living, or keep mumbling 
away at Latin declensions that go in at one ear and 
out at the other !” said Ken, bitterly. 

“ How can you say such things, Ken, when I feel 
so sorry for Dave and Annette, too?” cried Robin. 
“ I can’t quite realize that boys like you and him 
could — could do such great things as you expected,” 
she added, candidly ; “ but I am sorry enough that 
the discovery is lost. It seems dreadful that it 
might have been valuable, when Dave and Annette 
are so poor that one can hardly see how they are 
going to get on at all. We must help them, Ken !” 

“ I should like to know how we are going to do it, 
unless that scrap of paper helps the apothecary to re- 
member the whole. It’s easy to stand there preach- 
ing. If you were anything like a sister you would 
get the money for me to go down to Kingstown. 
Papa trusts everything to you. He would give you 
the money, and never ask what it was for. And you 


54 THE MATE OF THE “MARY ANN ’’ 

won’t get it for me — you who made all the trouble 
by your carelessness. You are just exactly like a 
girl !” With this climax of reproach Ken went out 
into the rain, slamming the door behind him. 

He looked almost capable of walking to Kingstown. 
But Kobin could not ask her father for money, not 
even to restore Ken’s good-nature. And, moreover, 
it would be utterly useless for him to go with that 
scrap of paper. What would he say when some one 
quicker witted than he, or more accustomed to 
Cap’n Saul’s written dialect, should read it to him ? 
She would be obliged to pretend that she had been 
deceived also. 

“ T’anny Baker do be afther bring’n’ over a pair o’ 
foine lairge mackerel,” said Moira, as Kobin entered 
the kitchen. “ lie said ’twas his brother sint ’em, 
but I’m think’ll’ himsel’ was the manes iv it. A big 
hairt he have in his bit body, and its niver too starmy 
for him to be do’n’ a good turn.” 

But it was in fact Cap’n Saul, who, repenting be- 
fore daylight of the bill, which was to work more 
mischief than he knew, had selected two “ stunners ” 
from his catch, and despatched Thanny with them — 
a peace-offering like Annette’s tartine. 

“I want to see Thanny. Has he gone?” said 
Kobin, quickly. 

“He do be breakin’ wood in the shed. Sure our- 
silves have a roight to break our wood and catch our 
fish,” said Moira, who had her own opinion of 
“Mastlier Kin,” and was privileged to speak her 
mind. “ And I tould him so, but he says he’s wantin’ 
to aise his moind. Now whativer would ail the 
crathur’s bit moind ?” 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 


55 




But Bobin bad gone ; she was pushing open the 
wood-shed door, to find Thanny, with his jacket off, 
manfully attacking the stoutest among a pile of logs. 

“ Thanny, don’t speak loud ; it’s very private. Do 
you know how a bit of paper, something like a bill, 
in Cap’n Saul’s writing, came in our hall ?” 

“ I was hopin’ she’d sweep it up,” groaned Thanny. 
“ I’d ought to have tore it all up. I wouldn’t have 
fetched it only he made me. He’s some stingy right 
along, Saul is, but when he’s uncommon stingy he’s 
always sorry afterwards. I tore off ‘ for carryin’ him 
down to Kingstown, fifty cents,’ and just left ‘for 
takin’ on him home, fifty cents.’ Saul told me to tell 
Ken that he kind of made a mistake, and he mustn’t 
think anything about it ; there wasn’t nothin’ to pay. 
But I don’t want to say anything to Ken ; he’s — he’s 
so kind of sharp when he thinks folks are mean. So 
I’ll jest let you fix it.” 

“ Yes, you can leave it to me,” said Eobin, eagerly. 
“I’m afraid we impose on Cap’n Saul, and on you 
too, Thanny ; you’re always doing something for us.” 

“Land — meP'' cried Thanny, his round freckled 
face aglow with delight. “ I never have such tip-top 
times as I do when you and me are all hands of the 
Mary Ann, takin’ folks out, real skipper fashion, as 
we did the other day, with a spankin’ breeze; but 
Annette Freneau ain’t the style of girl that suits 
me !” Thanny’s face had darkened suddenly, and he 
shook his head doubtfully. 

“ Poor Annette ! She has so much trouble,” said 
Eobin. 

“ That ain’t any reason why she should fire things 
at folks’s heads,” said Thanny. 


56 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

“Cap’ll Saul ouglit to be paid,” said Eobin, 
meditatively. “You tell him that I will see that 
he is.” 

“You’re a-layin’ it up!” exclaimed Thanny, dole- 
fully. “ And I told him you would. But I don’t want 
to hurt his feelin’s tollin’ him such a thing as that — 
that you’re a-goin’ to pay.” 

“Ken would want to, I’m sure, if he knew about 
the bill,” said Eobin. “I’m afraid we have come 
to think that the Flying Scud almost belongs 
to us 1” 

“You won’t tell Ken about the bill, will you?” 
said Thanny, eagerly. 

“ He may find out, because he has it ; he picked 
it up, but he — he doesn’t know what it means. You 
know, Thanny, Cap’n Saul doesn’t spell just like 
every one.” Eobin stammered somewhat in the ef- 
fort to express herself delicately. 

“ lie makes up his own spellin’,” said Thanny, 
not without a touch of pride. “lie says book- 
learnin’ ain’t of any account, for ’t won’t lay up 
nothin’, nor make more’n a hundred cents to a dol- 
lar.” 

“You mustn’t think so, Thanny; you must go to 
school and learn,” said Eobin, earnestly. 

“ Saul he wants me to — it’s kind of queer, but he 
does. And I’m to be head of the ’rithmetic class ; 
folks will be apt to cheat you if you don’t know ’rith- 
metic, if Saul does say that he can do all the sums he 
needs to on the fingers and toes that nater has given 
him. Say, Miss Eobin, did you know there’s goin’ 
to be a lightnin’ calc’lator to the show that’s cornin’ ? 
And I’m goin’ to find out how he does it. Say, do 



>> 


^'SHE FOUND THANNY MANFULLY ATTACKING A PILE OF LOGS, 




57 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN” 

you s’pose old Freneau knew anything about raakin’ 
glass that everybody don’t know? He made his 
boasts, but Saul says ’tain’t likely. Ilallett & Close 
— Hallett & Rawlins ’tis now — they’ve got so 
much money that they can find out anything. Saul 
says so. I wisht I knew what Ken and Dave was 
buyin’ to the apothecary’s. There’s some stuff 
aboard of the Scud now. Ken said it was too dark 
to take it home last night, and that it wa’n’t much 
use, anyhow. I didn’t want to fetch it over, for 
fear I should get blowed up. Some of it looks like 
lead, and some of it is kind of shiny, and it don’t 
smell like nothin’ at all ! I shouldn’t wonder a mite 
if Annette Freneau was a witch.” 

This last seemingly irrelevant remark Thanny ut- 
tered in a tone of strong conviction. 

“ Thanny ! you are as ridiculous as Moira with her 
fairies. A Yankee boy, too! Fm ashamed of you!” 
exclaimed Robin. 

“ Kow you jest look a-here, Miss Robin 1” said 
Thanny, earnestly. “ When I was a-goin’ home from 
here last night, after fetchin’ over the bill, I went 
aboard the Scud, jest to take another look at that 
stuff, ’cause I couldn’t seem to get it out of my mind, 
and if one of them bottles wa’n’t a-shinin’ jest like 
fire-coals! You’d better believe I run. I expected 
nothin’ but what a genii like them in the book that 
Steve Frettygo lent me would rise right out of it. 
ISTo, I ain’t afraid of a Jack-o’-lantern, like Moira, 
neither ! I know what they be ; but I never did see 
stuff in a bottle look as if ’twas afire !” 

‘‘I suppose there are chemical preparations that 
look like that,” said Robin, reflectively. 


58 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAKY ANN” 

“ I’d like to know, but I wouldn’t darst to ask Ken ; 
would you?” said Tlianny. 

“ I shouldn’t like to, because it’s probably a secret,” 
said Kobin. 

“ Oil, Miss Robin, it ain’t true, is it, that Granny 
IS^ickerson left you her monkey ? Moira’s always 
tryin’ to fool me,” said Thanny, suddenly struck by 
a new idea. 

“ Yes, it is true ; and, Thanny, she left me her 
cranberry meadow, too,” said Robin, feeling that the 
friends who often shared her troubles ought to be 
told of her good-fortune. 

“ The great big one down by Honeypot Marsh ? 
Gee Whittaker! And there’s going to be an ortie 
crop this year. You’ll have to look out for ’em. 
I’ll help you.” Thanny’s cherubic, freckled face 
fairly shone with delight at the prospect. ‘^Rut 
that monkey has got a bad name ; he’s orfle mis- 
cheevous. They say he carried off two ten -dollar 
bills out of Mr. Sears’s money-drawer, and he never 
found ’em. Most likely he chewed ’em up and swal- 
lered ’em. If he carries anything off you won’t 
never find it. A sailor down to Kingstown was 
going to give me an orfle nice one once, but Saul 
wouldn’t let me have it. They’re real good comp’ny, 
but there ain’t any profit in ’em ; that’s what Saul 
says.” 

Jean appeared at this moment with the monkey 
perched upon her shoulder ; she was followed by the 
twins and Traddles, an admiring, excited procession. 

“ Traddles dreamed that he turned into Granny 
Kickerson, and was a hundred, and blew away, and 
we didn’t have him any more ; and she woke up 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 


59 


crying,” announced Prim. “ Traddles has such very 
unpolite dreams, I am afraid her mind will trouble 
her.” 

The monkey immediately justified Thanny’s opin- 
ion of his unprofitableness by seizing his hat from 
his head and climbing with it to a high beam, where 
he squatted, chattering, and with an evident intention 
of tearing his trophy to pieces, 

Thanny shouted to him sternly in vain, but Kobin’s 
happy thought of shaking a stick at him threaten- 
ingly caused him to toss the hat down dexterous- 
ly upon Traddles’s delighted head, whence Thanny 
seized it and brushed it with his sleeve, his thrifty 
little soul full of alarm. 

“ Monkeys are orfie good comp’ny, but there ain’t 
any profit in ’em,” he repeated, earnestly. 

Ken did not return to breakfast. Moira somewhat 
allayed Robin’s anxiety by reporting that he had re- 
freshed himself with “ the bit and the sup ” from the 
pantry before he went. She thought that he had 
probably gone down to the Quansett House, where 
he often spent a day, having acquired a reputation 
among the guests by his skill at bowls and tennis. 
But he burst in upon her — she was watching for him 
in the hall — late in the evening, rain-soaked, and with 
his face as haggard as such a fresh boy -face could 
possibly be. 

‘‘I have been to Kingstown. How did I get 
there? Well, I walked part of the way, and borrowed 
money for the rest. It isn’t a nice thing to do ; it 
isn’t what a fellow would choose, but I couldn’t wait 
when there was a chance. And I’ve been fooled! 
I’m the laughing-stock of the town !” Ken’s thin 


60 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ’’ 

boyish voice was harsh and shrill. ‘‘ The whole Cape 
will ring with it. The writing on that slip of paper 
was that clown Saul Baker’s ! 1 knew it as soon as 

a fellow in the apothecary’s read it to me. ‘For 
takin’ on him home, 50 cents.’ A bill, I suppose 
— for me, likely enough. lie’s caj)able of it. Why 
did you say it was a piece of that paper ? How queer 
you look ! Did 3^11 know what it was, and let me 
make a fool of myself like that?” Bobin shrank 
from his fierce look and tone, and covered her face 
Avith her hand. 

“ Look me in the face, and tell me whether you 
knew !” cried Ken. 


CHAPTER V 


“ You did know ! You never thought it was a 
piece of that paper. You 'pretended that it was, and 
let me go and make a donkey, a perfect jackass of 
myself!” cried Ken, growing more furious as he 
rehearsed his wrongs. ‘‘ I wish I had told that grin- 
ning apothecary what I thought of him — when he 
knew it wasn’t a laughing matter, too. I told him 
enough about it for him to know that — more than I 
wish I had. On the way I took it over to Dave, 
and puzzled his poor weak brains over it. He can 
read letters and figures; I was afraid he couldn’t, but 
he can. If I had had that paper that you let that 
girl throw overboard, and then let the monkey tear 
to pieces, I believe I could have made him remem- 
ber! How of course he never will get well, after 
being tormented by tliat drivel, ‘4 Teckin’ oni 
moame !’ There’s English for you. How should a 
fellow know what it meant? That apothecary said that 
a man in his line got accustomed to queer spelling. 
The minute he read it out I knew it was Saul Baker. 
I should like to know whether it’s a bill, and whether 
he meant it for me. How came 'you to know what 
it meant? Or did you only know that it wasn’t that 
paper? You knew just what it was! I remember, 
now, that you looked as if you wanted to laugh. 
Yes, you wanted to laugh, you were fooling me so 


62 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

beautifully! A pretty sister you are for a boy to 
have !” 

Oh Ken, I — I didn’t know just at first,” stam- 
mered Kobin, “and when I did, I hated to disappoint 
you, and you were so angry with me that I felt as if 
I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know that you were 
going to show it to any one. I thought the storm 
would prevent. I wouldn’t have let you do that, 
Ken. I meant to tell you. It is too bad !” 

“ It is too had mimicked Ken. “ That’s what a 
girl says when she has ruined everything. Just wait 
till I catch that Saul Baker! A great girl you are 
to complain of my associating with Dave Freneau 
when you make such friends of those Bakers !” 

“ They’ve been so kind to us, Ken,” said Kobin. 

“ The Scud has been like our own boat. And what 
could I do with the Mary Ann if it were not for 
Thanny ?” 

“Oh, well, if they’re your sort! You’re always 
copying Saul’s maxims — ‘ Stiddy days’ works and 
there you be.’ I suppose you’ll be copying his 
spelling presently,” said Ken, conscious, in spite of 
his unhappiness, of some satisfaction in what he 
felt was very neat sarcasm. “ As for me, I’ve done 
with them. I’ve done with you^ too.” Ken’s look 
and tone were withering, as he said this, and poor 
Kobin shrank visibly. “ If I should stay here I r 
would never speak to you. But I sha’n’t stay. 
And if anybody knows where I’ve gone it won’t 
be you.” 

Ken had an irritating consciousness that there was 
an unmanly tremor in his voice, but to Kobin it was 
only the more impressive on this account. Kobin 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘MARY ANN 


63 


?> 


felt crushed and guilty, but nevertheless she rallied 
for a little self-defence. 

“It was silly of me and — and weak, but I only 
wanted you not to be angry.” 

“To be weak sometimes is to be wicked,” said 
Ken, with some dramatic effect. (Declamation was 
Ken’s strong point ; he came brilliantly to the front 
on school exhibition days.) He had read that in a 
book, thought Kobin, recognizing the sentiment as 
one which had struck her in a story that they had 
both been reading, and it was consequently not so 
effective as Ken’s original reproaches were apt to be. 
She could have found the spirit to answer it, if Ken 
had given her an opportunity, but he ran up-stairs 
and locked himself in his own room. 

Kobin was obliged to explain to his father that Ken 
had been out in the rain, and was tired and wet. 
Mr. Dinsmore asked few questions of late, he had 
grown so feeble, and to-night it was a relief to Robin 
to escape easily. 

“Poor dear boy, he has such a hard time!” his 
mother said ; but she never asked for explanations ; 
they were apt to give one neuralgia. 

Half an hour later Robin set down a little tray at 
his door and tapped gently ; but there was no re- 
sponse. 

“ Go away ! I know it’s you,” growled Ken, when 
she tapped again. 

“The clam -chowder was so good, Ken, and it’s 
hot,” said Robin, persuasively. “And I made such a 
cup of coffee 1” 

“ Clear out with ’em !” cried Ken, in a way which 
reminded Robin strongly of Annette’s 'va-fen.'’^ 


64 THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ’’ 

She slipped away, leaving the tray at the door, and, 
listening in her own room, was soon gratified by 
hearing Ken softly open and shut the door. She was 
acquainted with Ken, and she knew that the tray 
was gone. 

“ It takes the backbone out of a fellow to be so 
awfully hungry,” Ken was saying to himself. ‘‘And 
it’s only Kobin, anyway.” 

Nevertheless he left a little of the coffee ; he had 
meant to leave more, but it was too good; and set- 
ting the tray outside the door again, he carefully 
upset the cup, and spilled the coffee. “ Now she’ll 
think that Granny Nickerson’s Ban quo ate the 
chowder,” he said to himself, with great satisfac- 
tion. “After all, there are some advantages about 
having a silly little thing like Bobin for a sister.” 

Kobin listened at his door in the chill of the early 
morning. She was terribly afraid that he would 
now, in the first flush of his disappointment, carry 
out his oft -repeated threat to run away to sea. 
Captain Doane’s brig, the Steadfast^ was to sail 
soon from Qnansett, on a foreign voyage. It might 
sail that very morning. But the sound of heavy, 
regular breathing from Ken’s room assured her that 
lie was fast asleep. 

“I don’t believe he’ll go until he is sure that Dave 
Freneau won’t get well,” she said to herself, as she 
crept back to bed. “And there’s the great show 
that’s coming to Qnansett. He has seemed to think 
as much about it as if he were a Cape boy, almost as 
much as Thanny, who has been planning and planning 
how to see it without spending his money. He won’t 
go away; he’s only trying to frighten me.” And 



it 




KEN SOFTLY OPENED AND SHUT THE DOOR, 






65 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

Robin fell asleep again, almost as comfortably as a 
girl wlio hasn’t the great responsibility of a brother. 
But she dreamed that Adam had turned into a Jack- 
o’-lantern; he had a candle inside his grinning 
skull, like the pumpkin Jack-o’-lanterns which the 
boys made in the fall, and he was whisking along 
before her througli Honeypot Marsh, waving the 
lost scrap of paper tantalizingly before her, until sud- 
denly there was nothing left of him but Thanny’s 
hat, which had a frill of lace, like the pretty little 
bonnet which she had wished to buy for Traddles at 
Kingstown. “ My dreams are getting to be as un- 
polite as Traddles’s, and I shall worry myself out of 
my mind about those boys’ schemes. I will do my 
best, and think nothing more about what I can’t 
help. ‘ Stiddy days’ works and there you be.’ I think 
Cap’n Saul is a philosopher.” 

Ken was, after all, not much crosser the next morn- 
ing than he was in the habit of being of late. He 
carried out his threat not to speak to Robin, but he 
was so glum generally that this was scarcely notice- 
able. He objected strongly to going to Granny Nick- 
erson’s funeral, and was only constrained by his fa- 
ther’s positive command that such respect should be 
shown to her memory. To Ken’s mind the cran- 
berry meadow was so far overbalanced by the monkey 
and his misdeeds that no gratitude was due from the 
Dinsmore family to Granny Nickerson. He went by 
himself, surlily, in his flannel blouse and knicker- 
bockers. “ A fellow couldn’t be expected to dress up,” 
he said to himself, ‘Gvhen all his prospects in life had 
been ruined by that monkey;” while Robin was es- 
corted by Thanny — Thanny abnormally brushed and 


66 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN” 

combed, ill at ease in liis Sunday clothes, and bur- 
dened with two regrets. 

“ I never picked up her cane nor her bundle for 
her, one day, when she dropped ’em,” he explained 
to Eobin, as they drew near the house. ‘‘ I was goin’ 
smeltin’, and the fellers were all crowdin’ round the 
best hole in the ice. I don’ know why ’tis, but a 
feller thinks of it, and wishes he had, now she’s 
dead.” And Thanny gave expression to his feelings 
in as honest a sigh as was heaved for Granny Nicker- 
son, whose kindred had all died before her. ‘‘ There’s 
another thing that I’m sorry for, too — that I never 
see moonshine through her,” added Thanny, the boy 
in him coming to the front after his momentary lapse 
into sentiment. ’Bednego Phillups he says that 
when folks gets to be a hundred you can see moon- 
shine through ’em jest as plain. He see through 
Granny Nickerson.” 

‘‘ Thanny, don’t talk such nonsense !” said Robin, 
severely. 

“ No’m,” said Thanny, submissively, but evidently 
not relinquishing his opinion that ’Bednego Phillups 
had had enviable experiences. 

He came over to the bluffs that evening, restored 
to his every-day clothes, and in a more than ordina- 
rily cheerful state of mind, which he manifested by 
turning several somersets as he came in sight of the 
tennis-court where the young Dinsmores were all 
gathered — all except Iven, who w^as swinging in a 
hammock on the piazza with his cap over his eyes. 

The sight of Thanny’s small legs wildly waving 
against the sunset sky was followed by a gay shout 
from Thanny, 


67 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

“The show’s cornin’ to-morrer!” 

The show had been heralded for a long time by 
tantalizing placards on the fences and advertisements 
in the newspapers ; but there had been unaccount- 
able delays and unavoidable postponements. 

“ It ain’t just a common circus,” explained Thanny, 
still breathless, as he approached the group. “It’s 
an intellectyal show. There’s a Lightnin’ Calc’lator, 
and I’m a-goin’ to find out just how he does it. 
There’s wax figgers, and a Fat Lady, and a Skele- 
ton, and some Wild Men from Borneo, and a man 
that writes with his toes, and a Lion Tamer, and a 
Snake Charmer — I’m a-goin’ to find out how they 
do it. And some say the Lightnin’ Calc’lator is 
a-goin’ to leave ’cause he wanted to do all the intel- 
lectyal part, and now they’ve been and got an Edu- 
cated Goat ; and oh, how I wisht I could take his 
place !” 

“A heavy Lightning Calculator you’d make, Than- 
ny !” laughed Ken. “ How long since you got out 
of the multiplication table ?” 

“I’m in cube -root,” said Thanny, indignantly; 
“and you’d ought to hear me do sums in my head. 
If I just had a chance to find out how he does it, 
you’d see. Anyhow, I’ve got to get some kind of a 
job there Fifty cents a ticket, twenty-five cents un- 
der thirteen, and no compliment’ries ! Saul says we 
can’t stand such prices more’n once, anyhow. Some 
fellers peek, and some crawl under, but I wouldn’t. 
I did crawl under once when I was a little feller, and 
didn’t know ’twas mean. Miss Bobin she says ’'tis. 
Anyhow, they’re so strict now that you can’t get a 
chance to. And there ain’t many jobs that a feller 


68 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

can get; they have folks belongin’ to the comp’ny 
to do everything- ’Lando Briggs he’s got the start 
of me. He went away up to Menauket to get the 
chance of distributin’ handbills. Last show that 
come round he got a chance to blow up the Fat Lady 
— most of her was Injy- rubber, and she had to be 
blowed up jest like a balloon. I was goin’ to try 
for that job with this show — ’Lando got a free pass, 
and a lot of compliment’ries — but this one she’s truly 
fat !” 

Thanny sighed, with a deep sense of the vanity of 
earthly hopes. 

‘‘ I don’t b’lieve they’re truly wild men from Bor- 
neo,” he continued, after a moment of reflection. 
‘‘ Once there was a show over to Deepniouth, and 
the wild man wa’n’t nobody but Jake Pingree’s 
cousin, that used to live down here to the Cape. He 
w'a’n’t nothin’ but jest a common boy like me, that 
went fishin’ and done jobs, and he got to be a wild 
man in a show ! Saul says he’d rather be President, 
but I wouldn’t.” 

Thanny, how can you, wdien its pretending — 
when it isn’t honest at all !” said Pobin, reprov- 

ing'y- 

“He was a tip-top wild man — jest as good as if he 
was born so,” said Thanny, in an aggrieved tone. 
“If a feller feels that he’s got talents for anything 
he’d ought to use ’em — that’s what the minister says ; 
and sometimes I feel jest exactly as if I had talents 
for bein’ a wild man or something or other in a 
show. There is talents down here to the Cape. 
Mary Lizzie Brewster’s own aunt used to ride on the 
whale in the ’quarial gardens up to Boston, when she 


69 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

was a girl. She was orile celebrated. IVe saw her 
and spoke to her myself,” said Thanny, thrilled with 
honest pride. 

“ Robin thinks shows are common j but then she 
thinks ’most everything is,” said Jean, with an evident 
sense of injury. “ I think they’re nice.” 

There was a chorus of assent from the younger 
ones, although Prim qualified her share by saying 
she thought Traddles ought not to be allowed to 
think it was Sunday-school, as she did last year. 

‘*Ken said he’d like to go ofi with a show, any- 
how,” said Thanny, in whose bosom Robin’s evident 
scorn of his tastes was still rankling. ‘‘ I heard him 
tell Don Samson so. He said ’twas a chance to see 
the world, at any rate, and better’ n stayin’ in this 
poky little hole.” 

Thanny lowered his voice. Ken might resent being 
quoted, for he was inclined to be irritable in these 
days; but he was swinging lazily in his hammock, ap- 
parently listening to nothing. 

But it’s hard to get a job that will let you in, to 
say nothin’ of gettin’ a chance to b’long,” added 
Thanny, gloomily. ‘‘Dave Freneau got a chance to 
take tickets last year; ’twas on account of that 
French Canadian that had the charge of the ponies. 
They’ve got a lot of them chunky little Canadian 
ponies this year, so ’Bednego Phillups says, but there 
ain’t no Frenchman.” 

“ I never thought of that !” Ken was sitting up, 
wide awake and alert. “ I’ll take Dave to the show. 
The doctor said some association of ideas might sud- 
denly bring back his memory. Anyway, he said it 
would be well to amuse and interest him.” 


70 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ’’ 

Tlianny murmured tliat he should think might 
be kind of interestin’ to live ’long of Annette,” but no 
one took any notice of him. 

“I would take him, Ken,” said Robin, who tried 
to ignore Ken’s displeasure against herself. 

“ I wasn’t talking to you,” said Ken, crossly, as he 
swung himself out of the hammock, and took to the 
road in the direction of Honeypot Marsh. 

“ Say, Ken’s took that stuff out of the Scud's cabin 
and put it up in the carriage -house chamber. I 
helped him this mornin’. If you should happen to 
see something a -shinin’ like fire -coals — I wisht I 
knew what them boys was up to. But Dave Fre- 
neau won’t ever know much again ; that’s what folks 
say. A little knock like that wouldn’t hardly have 
made a Cape feller see stars ! I should think he 
might have got used to seein’ stars livin’ ’long of 
Annette. She chased Tommy Sears with the pok — 
Well, I ain’t a-goin’ to say nothin’ about her, anyhow. 
Some fellers can’t get along with girls, and mebbe 
that’s the way with me.” 

The chorus of dissent to this modest view of his 
adaptability which immediately arose from the 
children caused Thanny’s freckled face to glow with 
pleasure. 

“I like ’em, I like ’em real well,” he declared. 
“And — and them that fires things at folks’s heads 
means well, I expect.” 

AVith this noble renunciation of his prejudice 
against Annette, Thanny took himself off in the 
direction of Quansett, where fascinating prepara- 
tions for the show were in progress. 

Ken did not take Dave to the show the next day ; 


TUE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANn” 


71 


Annette objected, because be was so weak, and An- 
nette’s objections were apt to be too forcible for 
even Ken’s persistence to overcome. Dave slept 
mucli of the time, and remained dazed and stupid 
when he was awake. This Kobiii learned not from 
Ken, who was steadfast to bis cruel resolution not to 
speak to her, but from Annette herself when she 
went down to the marsh the next morning, carry- 
ing from the simple and not over-abundant stores in 
Moira’s pantry those things of which she thought 
Annette and Dave might be most in need. 

“He is like a stranger; he is not my Dave at 
all,” repeated poor Annette over and over, with 
pitiful tears. “And I cannot go to work. I dare 
not leave him. What will keep us from starve?” 

Kobin told her, as persuasively as possible, of Duke, 
and his wish to help them. 

“The son of that man who have try to cheat my 
poor father ? Kevair !” cried Annette, with a ter- 
rible rolling of r’s. “I will let Dave starve first. He 
would wish it !” 

“ Blit he is such a nice boy, Annette I” said Kobin, 
warmly. “And he is lame ; he has hip-disease, and 
suffers all the time, and that makes him think of 
others who have trouble.” 

“ I am glad if he have trouble !” cried Annette, 
with flashing eyes. “Yes, I am glad, and you need 
not look at me like that! If you have seen your 
father wrong out of what was his life, and die too 
worn out when he come near to get it at last — and 
now Dave is almost the same as die, and it is all 
lost 1” Annette grew incoherent and tearful; it was 
plain that remonstrances were of no avail. 


12 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘mARY ANN ” 

Duke isn’t to blame for all that, you know, An- 
nette,” she said, gently. “ But I’ll do all I can to 
help you.” 

You are good ; you would, I know, but Dave and 
I we will burden no one. While the summer lasts 
we can go on. We have the potato-patch, the little 
pease, and berries in the woods.” 

‘‘And we will go fishing, you and I, in the Mary 
Ann^'^ said Bobin. 

“You make it so that it is no favor that I take,” 
said Annette. “ Those others ” — Annette nodded 
significantly in the direction of Sandford — “those 
others do favor, but they look down. I go fishing 
with you in the Marie Ann.^'^ 

Annette said this loftily, wdth the air of conferring 
a favor, but there was a sob in her throat. “ She 
have a good heart, and the tartine have go to it !” she 
said to herself, as she watched Bobin’s retreating 
figure from the doorway. 

Bobin had not seen Dave ; he was asleep, but she 
had seen a child’s cart full of stones in the yard, and 
Annette had told her, tearfully, that Dave had found 
it in the cellar and occupied himself, in most of his 
waking moments, in drawing it up and down. 

“ The doctor have say he get over that when he 
grow stronger,” she explained. “ The great doctor 
have come up from Kingstown, and he ask no pay, 
because he is interested. It is good sign and not bad 
for Dave to draw the cart, but he must not see me 
cry. I laugh always, like this, when Dav^e is awake!” 
Annette displayed all her dazzling teeth in a grin so 
forced that it seemed doubtful whether it could have 
a cheering effect upon Dave. 


73 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAKY ANN ” 

He take more notice, a little, than the first day, 
but he must not get tired. I will not let him go to 
the show, and your brother put himself in temper. 
He say he do not like girls, anyway. That to me is 
equal whether he like girls or not, but he shall not 
tire my Have.” 

On the last day of the show Ken obtained the 
doctor’s permission and Annette’s to take Have to 
see the chunky little Canadian ponies. Annette in- 
sisted upon going also, not from lightness of heart — 
that seemed over for poor Annette — but because she 
could not trust Have out of her sight. The expense 
of the outing, which, it must be confessed, had been 
a matter of serious embarrassment to Ken, was pro- 
vided from a wholly unexpected quarter. 

Cap’ll Saul came up the steep sandy path from the 
slip with the rolling gait which he had acquired before 
he was twelve years old, and a sheepish look on his 
face, which was quite new to it. Thanny, wdio knew 
the weak points in his armor, as we all know those 
of our own kin, had by continual sly thrusts aroused 
him to deepest penitence. 

They ain’t makin’ any ice-cream or frozen pud- 
d’n’ over to the minister’s nowadays. I expect that 
means that they’re orfie short. I don’t expect they 
ever made a mite without sendin’ us some. ‘Heap 
it up, Moira,’ Miss Eobin used to say, when it was 
going into my pail. ‘ Cap’n Saul and Thanny both 
have a sweet tooth.’ ” 

Cap’n Saul and Thanny cooked for themselves in 
untrained, masculine ways, and these delicacies had 
been extremely welcome. 

“She always makes me take my share of the 


74 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

money, reg’lar, Miss Robin does, when we take folks 
out in the Mary Ann. And I don’t want to, neither. 
There ain’t anything mean about some folksP 

With such keen thrusts did sly Thanny arouse his 
elder brother to repentance. 

was kind of thinkiii’ that seein’ that French 
feller got hurt aboard of my boat, mebbe I’d ought 
to do a little something for him,” lie said, giving a 
sailor hitch to his trousers, and with his eyes on the 
ground, but addressing Ken, wdiom he met on the 
lawn, while Robin listened with all her ears from her 
perch on the piazza railing. “ I wouldn’t want to 
give a dollar where it wouldn’t be put to a good use, 
but — but I had one layin’ round kind of permisc’us 
in my pocket, and bearin’ you was thinkin’ of takin’ 
him to the show, I kind of thought — ” 

Cap’n Saul at this point extended a silver dollar. 
“ There ain’t no profit in shows, generally speakin’, 
but Thanny was tellin’ me that you calc’lated it 
might set his thinkin’-machine to workin’ again — and 
so there ’tis.” 

He thrust the silver dollar into Ken’s somewhat 
reluctant hand, and rolled away at great speed. 

“A fellow wouldn’t take it from that old curmudgeon 
if he had a sixpence that he could call his own. The 
idea of making out a bill for taking Dave on his old 
boat when he was going anyway,” growled Ken, as he 
came slowly up the steps. ‘‘And a pretty fix he got 
me into by it, too ! I don’t know how a fellow can 
bear all that I have to without going out of his mind. 
To have to cringe to people to borrow money, and 
to take it from a fellow like that !” 

“ Ken, dear, it is too — ” 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 75 

I wasn’t talking to you,” said Ken, savagely, sud- 
denly remembering himself. “ I was talking to — ” 

Alas ! there was no one to represent a listener ex- 
cept Traddles’s great Dinah, staring, beady-eyed and 
wooden, on the upper step. 

As Ken’s searching gaze fell on the doll, Eobin’s 
unfortunately quick sense of humor caused her mouth 
to twitch. 

“Laugh ! Oh yes, laugh away!” cried Ken, furi- 
ously. “ What do you care what your own brother 
has to suffer? and all your doing, too. But you’ll 
think of it again ! I’m going to do something 
desperate. I’m not going to live like a beggar any 
longer — desperate., I tell you, and you won’t laugh 
when you hear of it 1” 


CHAPTER VI 


Ken very often threatened to rnn away. Doubtless 
that was what he meant by doing something des- 
perate. Kobin, like the ‘‘bonny, bonny lass” in the 
song, was told “many a tale of the dangers of the 
sea.” Ken had used this way of persuading her to do 
what he wished almost as long as she could remem- 
ber — long before they came to tlie Cape, where such 
ample opportunities were offered of putting his threat 
into execution. Like the boy who cried “ Wolf !’’ so 
often that at length no one paid any attention when 
tlie wolf really came, Ken had w^eakened the effect 
of his threat by repetition. 

“He doesn’t mean anything, and I won’t worry 
any more about it. I really was afraid that he and 
Dave Freneau would go, and all the time they were 
planning something quite different,” Kobin said to 
herself. “ Poor Ken ! he has had a great deal to vex 
him, but I think he isn’t going to keep cross a great 
while. He can’t help speaking to me.” 

Kobin took the twins and Traddles to the show on 
that same afternoon when the effort was made to 
stimulate poor Dave’s “thinking-machine” by means 
of the Canadian ponies. Jean was going also, and 
was in high glee in consequence. Kobin wished that 
Moira could have taken the children, for Jean’s ac- 
cusation that she thought shows were “common” 


f 


f 

\ 


i 

t . 






“robin took the twins and traddles to the show, 




THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ’’ VV 

was true. Moreover, she liad nothing to wear, except 
her old gray mohair, which had faded in streaks, and 
Jean’s dress was almost up to her knees — Jean grew 
so inconsiderately — and darned, of course; Jean’s 
dresses were always darned. But Moira was too old, 
now, to be trusted to take them, and, moreover, had 
been seized with terror at sight of the lion, retreating 
to the remotest corner of her attic closet when he 
went by, mildly roaring in his cage, between the 
ponderous elephant and the zebra — the latter an 
animal of the most peculiar appearance, which Than- 
ny shrewdly suspected to have been painted. “ He 
looks just like a barber’s pole, and he ain’t no jogra- 
phy zebra, anyhow,” he stoutly maintained. 

Traddles, for her part, was strongly convinced that 
God had not made the elephant, he was so clumsy and 
unfinished ; to all Prim’s reproofs she replied that God 
could certainly have made a better one. It came to 
be the generally accepted opinion in the nursery that 
God had made him, but merely for a pattern, and 
that on this account the show-man had secured him 
at a bargain. 

With curiosity thus aroused to a fever-heat by the 
passing of the procession, of course the children were 
uproarious to see the show, and The poor little hearts 
had so few pleasures Robin must certainly take 
them,” their mother said. So Robin sat up half 
the night with Moira making the little darned and 
patched white frocks presentable, and with just 
enough money in her pocket for four half-tickets and 
one whole one — how good a thing it was that Jean 
was still under thirteen ! — she set out with the whole 
fiock for the show. And although care might perch 


V8 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

upon one^s shoulder, and circuses might seem vulgar, 
there was, nevertheless, some fun in them when one 
was only fifteen. One could not help wishing to see 
the horses, especially the lovely little Shetland po- 
nies, and the curious old camel, so associated in Trad- 
dles’s mind with Biblical illustrations that Prim was 
obliged to labor with her still further to remove the 
impression that she was going to Sunday-school. 
There was a certain dreadful fascination about the 
snake-charming, and one would like to discover, as 
Tlianny meant to do, whether the zebra were really 
painted, and if so how they did it. 

And Jean, oblivious of shabby clothes, was so 
wholly joyous, and the little ones so full of glee, that 
no sympathetic soul could help sharing their feelings, 
although poverty might pinch and brothers threaten 
to run away. 

Ken, who would have scorned in any case to ap- 
pear in public with “ the youngsters,’’ as he called 
them, had gone to Honeypot Marsh to take Dave to 
the show — Dave, who could now walk apparently 
as well as ever, although his mental condition was 
not improved. They happened to find places near 
together in the democracy of the unreserved seats, 
and Pobin forgot all the attractions of the show in 
watching Dave. He was interested, delighted, as 
gleeful as the twins and Traddles, over the perform- 
ances of the trick ponies and the educated goat that 
looked like a wise old patriarch in his long beard. 
But when Ken talked to him, pointing out the 
chunky little Canadian ponies, in which at the 
previous show his interest had all been centred, 
because they reminded him of a Canadian village 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 


79 


5? 


wliere he had once lived, his face became blank, and 
he was utterly unresponsive. 

Robin watched Ken’s face, regardless of all the 
charms of the performance, and her heart sank at 
sight of his disappointment. She knew that he was 
saying to himself that all effort was useless; Dave 
would never remember. If he would only give up 
the hope, now and altogether, of that great fortune 
which Freneau’s discovery was expected to bring, and 
do his best bravely ! But Robin realized, with a great 
sigh, that such wisdom could scarcely be expected of 
Ken. He would be much more likely to think that 
the time had come for his desperate deed, whatever 
that might be. It was probably running away to 
sea on board a whaler, where great hardships were 
still suffered, or on a fisherman to the Banks, from 
which so many sailors never came home. The gay 
scene faded from before Robin’s eyes, and dreadful 
shipwrecks took its place, until Annette’s shrill 
laughter aroused her again to reality. Annette was 
boisterously gleeful, until a sudden recollection 
would cause her to turn to Dave, and his altered 
manner would seem to strike her with new force 
after the short forgetfulness. 

She was wild with delight over the ponies. See, 
see, Dave ! Is he not the very image of Mouchard, 
the little fat one with the blue cockade? Surely 
you remember Mouchard and the little cart that car- 
ried us to market.” 

But Dave was puzzled and impatient; he preferred 
the snakes and the lion to the ponies, and evidently 
saw no reason why he should be expected to share 
Annette’s interest in them. Annette threatened to 


80 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

become hysterical, loudly declaring in piteous tones 
that lie was not her Dave at all, and attracting the 
attention of every one. Poor Ken ! he looked com- 
pletely exasperated. This was far worse than appear- 
ing in public with the twins and Traddles, who, 
indeed, with Prim in the middle, were models of 
deportment, with all their delight. Ken would cer- 
tainly go away and leave them, when all eyes began 
to turn towards them, if it were not for his loyalty 
to Dave, thought Pobin. 

Thanny, who, by being on the grounds since early 
morning, had found “ a job,” for which he was paid 
with an admission ticket, but who had been too late 
to secure a seat, had wandered into the vicinity of 
his friends, and stood staring, open-mouthed, at An- 
nette. ‘‘ Say, Ken had better get ’em away,” he said, 
in a whisper, leaning across several people to speak to 
Kobin. ‘‘ She’ll holler out so’st there’ll be a regular 
panic, or else she’ll fire something at somebody’s 
head !” 

“ Can’t you ask her to be quiet, Thanny ? If I 
could only get there ! Ken looks so distressed !” said 
Pobin. 

“Land sakes! she wouldn’t shet up for me,” said 
Thanny, in great alarm. “ I wouldn’t darst to go 
nigh her no more’n I’d darst go into the cage with 
that lion, nor half so much. Ken, he’s orfie fool- 
hardy. Neither of them ain’t right in their heads. 
If any Cape feller had got a little knock like that it 
wouldn’t have put him out a mite. Say, she’s be- 
havin’ better now ; she’s all took up with the clown 
and the goat a- dancin’.” Thanny was “took up” 
with this performance for some time himself, but 


81 


THE MATE OF THE “mARY ANN ” 

before it was done be leaned over to Robin again 
for further conversation. “Say, Dave Freneau will 
have to go to the idiot school ; everybody says so. 
They wouldn’t hire either of ’em at the glass-works, 
anyhow. The new manager has come, and he’s 
orfle particular. He’s worked for Mr. Rawlins for 
ten years, and he knows more about glass than any 
other man in this country. He’s goin’ to make 
things hum !” 

Robin looked anxiously at Dave Freneau, and 
found too much intelligence in his face to admit to 
herself that Thanny’s prophecy would prove true. 
But when he looked away from the clown and the 
goat a dull, blank expression came over his face ; he 
looked at her as if he had never seen her. If this 
dulness should increase, if memory should fail more 
and more — oh, poor Annette, whose heart was so 
bound up in him, how would she bear it ? 

These were melancholy thoughts to entertain while 
the educated goat was performing his funny tricks 
and the clown cracking his jokes. Thanny, who was 
hard-hearted where Annette Freneau was concerned, 
was already occupied with livelier interests. “Say, 
■you jest give a good look at that lion!” he said, 
eagerly, to Robin, at the first opportunity. “You 
jest hear how kind of soft and reg’lar he roars ! And 
’Bednego Phillups he offered ’em a quarter to let him 
jest take hold and pull his tail a little mite, and they 
wouldn’t do it. They said ’twas ’cause he was so fero- 
cious, but don’t you b’lieve no such a thing. Ifs 
^ cause he’s stuffed P’’ Thanny’s voice sank to a thrill- 
ing whisper. “And they wind him up to make him 
roar. ’Taint no blood-curdlin’ roar, same as the bills 
6 


82 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN 

say it is; it ain’t a lialf-decent roar. The feller jest 
gets into the cage, and yanks round that old stuffed 
thing, and they call it lion-tamin’. It’s an orfle sell ; 
it’s the biggest sell that ever come here to Quansett, 
and me and ’Bednego Phillups are goin’ to hiss when 
the lion comes on. Oh, say, I forgot to tell you ; 
them Hallett girls are up there in the reserved seats, 
’way up in front. They asked me if you and Ken 
-was here, and they wanted to get where you and Ken 
was, because they was alone, and they was kind 
of scared. They needn’t be; there ain’t nothin’ 
to hurt ’em.” Thanny’s tone was slightly tinged 
with contempt. “ And that big one is as much as 
fifteen. They wanted me to ask some folks back 
here close to you to change seats with ’em. An- 
nette’s carryin’ on so, and then havin’ that lion on 
my mind, drove it right out of my head. There 
they be, standin’ up and beck’nin’, now. I expect 
they’ve been doin’ it right along, but Annette made 
everybody stare over here so that I never noticed 
’em. I expect I’d better ask the Patten boys, right 
alongside here, to change with ’em ; they’ll be glad 
enough to get up into the reserved seats, and them 
girls he Hallett’s daughters; that’s what Saul would 
say.” 

“Yes, you must, Thanny,” said Eobin ; but she 
said it somewhat faintly. She wondered that she 
had not seen the girls, they were so conspicuous in 
their finery. They would take in at a glance every 
detail of her shabbiness and Jean’s, their eyes were 
so keen for such matters; they would even know 
that Traddles’s dress was made out of Jean’s old 
barred muslin, and that Jean’s blue feather, which, 


83 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

in its wearer’s eyes, was sufficient to glorify great pov- 
erty of apparel, was her own old white one dyed. It 
was ignoble to be ashamed of these things. Robin 
was conscious of it, but nevertheless the mortification 
remained. Happy Jean, who could greet the Hal- 
lett girls with no feeling except that good-comrade- 
ship was an addition to the delight she was already 
enjoying, and, perhaps incidentally, that it was grat- 
ifying to have them see her blue feather. 

Thanny escorted the Hallett girls to the seats near 
Robin (the Patten boys having been more than will- 
ing to make the exchange), not without some sheep- 
ishness, and much anxiety lest the suspected lion, at 
which he meant to hiss, should appear before he got 
them seated. Thanny wore shoes for this occasion — 
an elaboration of costume which made him feel that 
the eyes of the whole audience were upon him ; they 
squeaked, being new, and Thanny’s face grew red ; 
he felt that he could be master of the situation, even 
in escorting girls, if it were not for this embarrass- 
ment of full dress. 

The Hallett girls were gay and voluble, as usual ; 
they had the twins moved so that they might sit one 
on each side of Robin, and they talked so loud that 
the people near them, who wished to listen to the 
clown’s jokes, frowned severely upon them. 

‘‘We’re all alone — just tliink of it !” said Martha. 

“Just think of it!” echoed Julia, at Robin’s other 
hand. 

“Miss Ferris thinks it’s vulgar to go to a circus.” 

“ She thinks everything is vulgar that’s nice,” in- 
terpolated J ulia. 

“ And papa wouldn’t let us come,” continued Mar- 


84 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

thvT. ‘‘lie said there would be a rough set here. 
You know there is trouble at the works; the men 
want more ])ay, or less work, or something.” 

“They alwaj^s want something,” said Julia. 

“ And things have been worse since that man of 
Mr. Rawlins’s came. He’s for making stricter rules 
and cutting down their pay. Papa says he has been 
too easy with them. He is glad to get somebody 
that will help him make them toe the mark. But I 
think he is afraid, too, that there’ll be a regular strike. 
Some of the men wouldn’t work to-da}^ They went 
off without leave, and they are most of tliem here in 
the tent. That’s why papa didn’t want us to come ; 
he said the men would be sure to come liere. But I 
don’t see what harm they could do us. They always 
mutter and scowl a little when we go by, but I’m 
used to that — I don’t mind it at all,” said Martha, 
serenely. 

“ I liked it better when the workmen were all 
friendly, and papa didn’t seem to want to make so 
much money. When we were little the men used to 
like us, and were glad to have us come into the works. 
I liked it a great deal better than I do to have them 
hate us so,” said Julia, with feeling. 

“ I don’t see what difference it makes,” said Mar- 
tha. “ They don’t dare do anything, because it would 
take the bread out of their mouths. I’m glad papa 
has a new partner ; old Mr. Close was too easy. Oh, 
you must come over to our lawn -party; we are go- 
ing to give it for the Rawlinses ; there are so few 
girls that we care to invite ; though this time we are 
going to have some of the large girls ; for Peggy 
Rawlins, she is very grown up, even for sixteen. 


85 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAKY ANN 

Do you think she is stylish ? Do you know Becky 
Gifford met them when she was abroad with her aunt ? 
I^ow the Giffords will entertain them, and we sha’n’t 
be anywhere. Mamma never will take any pains to 
outshine people, and she wants to keep us little girls.” 

“Do see those men glowering at us!” said Julia, 
nervously ; “ and the younger ones behind are jeer- 
ing and pointing ; they don’t seem to care how they 
behave.” 

“ Never mind — looks won’t hurt us. They’re tired 
of the clown ; when something new comes on they’ll 
forget all about us,” said Martha, philosophically. 
“Julia is such a goose ; she can't be happy unless ev- 
ery one likes her. As if it signified about those 
workmen ! They don’t like any one, because they’re 
poor. Papa says let them work and save and get 
rich, as he did. Did you know that the workmen 
are getting up a subscription for Dave Freneau ? 
They say he’ll always be foolish.” 

“ I think it was good of Ken to bring him here ; 
but how awfully sober he looks — Ken, I mean,” said 
Julia. “I’ve tried and tried to make him look at 
me, and he won’t. Does he have to take that girl 
round everywhere ? It’s well enough to be kind to 
the boy, but I think that girl is horrid. She was 
really rude to us when we carried her and her brother 
home that night. She said she ‘ wished I would shut 
up ’ when I asked her some questions about Dave’s 
getting hurt, and why he wasn’t attending to his 
work instead of going off down to Kingstown. And 
she didn’t even say thank you.” 

“ I’m afraid she doesn’t know very well how to 
behave, poor Annette !” said Kobin, apologetically. 


86 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

He can go to some institution, and she’ll be well 
enough off,” said Martha, carelessly. “Ho, I’m not 
heartless, Ju. Of course those people don’t feel like 
— like other people; and if he is foolish she can’t 
care much for him. Do you suppose Ken will come 
to our lawn-party ? Boys are so disagreeable about 
parties! If they come, they won’t dance; they just 
stand round and look foolish. I must make Ken 
promise — Oh, what is the matter ?” 

The matter was that the lion of Thanny’s suspi- 
cions had appeared in his cage, and was greeted with 
shouts and hisses, with jeers and groans. There was 
a large element in the audience which, finding the 
performance somewhat tame, eagerly took the cue 
from the two boys, who had only meant to express 
their righteous disapproval of a sham by a few hisses, 
and raised an uproar which caused its originators to 
turn pale. 

The lion -tamer stood before the cage door in his 
fantastic dress, trying vainly to make himself heard 
above the tumult. He was heard to call the lion 
“ a furious beast,” and a voice shouted, “ He ain’t 
nothin’ but an old pin - cushion !” “Wind him up 
again ! his roar is givin’ out 1” “ ’Tain’t a roar at 

all! They got things mixed up in the toy -shop, 
and put a lamb’s bleat inside of him !” “ I say, 

fellers, let’s make a hole in him and see the sawdust 

fly!” 

Each new sally was received with as great an out- 
burst of applause as if it were the choicest wit. The 
din became deafening — a mixture of hisses, whistles, 
catcalls, and shouts. There was a rush towards the 
lion’s cage, and in a moment the whole audience 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 8V 

was on its feet, in tlie wildest disorder. The screams 
of frightened women and children added to the 
uproar. 

‘‘Oh, let’s get out quick! We shall be killed!” 
cried Julia Hallett. 

“ Stay where you are !” called Ken. And Robin, 
with her frightened brood gathered close to her, stood 
trembling and uncertain. 

“There’s the new manager, Carlsen! he will take 
care of us,” cried Martha. 

A middle-aged man, with little sharp eyes set in a 
heavy face, turned quickly towards them at Martha’s 
call. 

“ It is a good-natured crowd. If you keep quiet, I 
think there is no danger,” he said. 

Ken, with his charges, had moved towards his 
sisters as far as possible, and Carlsen now caught 
sight of the party. 

“Ah! Dave Freneau, an old friend of mine, and 
just the same old sixpence, I dare say !” he said, cord- 
ially extending his hand. “Don’t you know me, 
Dave?” 

Dave, who had looked with unterrified wonder 
at the shouting crowds, gazed for a moment at the 
man as if he were spellbound, and then shrank back, 
pale and terror-stricken. 

“ Take me away from him ! take me away !” he 
gasped, clinging pitifully to Ken. 

“ He knows him — he knows him !” cried Ken, his 
face lighting up, and with a joyful ring in his 
voice. 

Carlsen had gone on towards one of the entrances, 
escorting the Hallett girls, and Robin and Jean fol- 


88 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN’’ 

lowed witli tlie little ones. Hobin heard Annette 
say, as people crowded between them : 

It is no wonder that he know him ! The bad man 
who have tried to steal from my father the great 
work that he do !” 

He remembers ! don’t you see what that means?” 
said Ken. 

Robin felt a thrill of pleasure, even in the midst of 
her anxiety, at the sound of Ken’s voice, it was so full 
of hope. The greater part of the crowd had pushed 
by them up to the front, and there was wild confusion 
in the ring. The lion had been hastily withdrawn 
before the threatened loss of sawdust could befall 
him, and the manager was endeavoring to make a 
speech. Robin was drawing a long breath of relief, 
when some rough-looking young men jostled and 
pushed the Ilallett girls, as if on purpose, and knock- 
ed Jean’s hat, with the precious blue feather, com- 
pletely off her head. 

. “Wasn’t that dreadful? I was really faint!” 
gasped Julia, as they emerged safely into the open 
air. “ If ever I go to such a place again !” 

“It was Jo Wilkes who did that!” cried Martha, 
excitedly. “ He is the fellow that papa discharged 
yesterday. I saw him urging the others on. I 
thought he would knock me down. Look! look! my 
watch is gone!” Martha held u'p the broken chain, 
which hung from a button-hole of her dress. “ It 
had a butterfly on it in diamonds; it was my birth- 
day present.” 

“It cost ever so much !” Julia broke in. 

“ He stole it — that Jo Wilkes !” cried Martha. 


CHAPTER VII 


‘‘You are sure it was Jo Wilkes who stole it?” 
asked Carlsen, excitedly. “ Then I must leave you. 
I must find a constable.” 

“Oh yes, yes; we can get home now!” cried Mar- 
tha. “Have him arrested! Oh, get the watch,, won’t 
you, Carlsen? I can’t bear to lose it. And we ought 
not to have come. I don’t know what papa will say. 
He’ll blame me for it all, and make a great fuss. And, 
oh dear, I’m sure it hasn’t been worth it !” 

There was a bustle about the entrance as Carlsen 
went in, and immediately afterwards Ken appeared, 
half carrying Dave, with Annette, hysterical, in the 
rear. 

“He fainted,” explained Ken. “I don’t know 
whether it was the disturbance or seeing Carlsen that 
caused it. Just stand away. I must get him where 
it’s quiet, and take him home as soon as possible. Oh, 
there’s old Solomon Gross in his wagon ; he lives on 
the marsh road.” 

Ken shouted to the old fisherman, who willingly 
consented to take the party into his wagon. Ken 
would not leave Dave to Annette’s care, but sat, care- 
fully supporting him, on the front seat, while old 
Solomon Gross sat astride a herring-box, and drove, 
and Annette dangled from the back of the wagon, 
looking like a thunder-cloud, and muttering strongly 


90 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN” 

uncomplimentary opinions of circuses and threats 
against people who interfered with her Dave. 

Thanny, appearing suddenly from the tent, in the 
midst of a crowd of hooting boys, just as the wagon 
was about to start, dodged his head as if from a 
missile. “ I’m a sight more scairt of her than I be 
of that lion, or of the manager either,” he confided 
to Eobin. “Folks that fires things takes you so 
unexpected. That manager is tearin’ mad. lie 
says he’s a-goin’ to find out who begun that hissin’, 
and who says that lion is stuffed, and he’s a-goin’ to 
have ’em arrested. There’s a feller gettin’ arrested 
in there now ; ain’t he kickin’ and fightin’, though 1 
There’s half a dozen tryin’ to hold him till they get 
an officer- I guess he must have said the zebry was 
painted.” 

“Is it Jo Wilkes? Has Carlsen got him?” asked 
Martha. “Well, then, I suppose we needn’t wait. 
I’m trembling so I can hardly stand. I’ve always 
said I didn’t care about those horrid workmen, but 
when they dare to push one, and snatch one’s jew- 
elry like that, it is frightful. But I think I shall 
get it ; don’t you? Oh, I donH know what papa will 
say !” 

“I can’t help feeling sorry for Jo Wilkes,” said 
Julia. “ He is so young, and I think he has got into 
bad company. And he has always been so good to 
his mother and his little crippled sister, and I think 
that Carlsen is disagreeable, and likes to show his 
authority.” 

“I can’t quite see that Jo Wilkes has a right to 
steal my watch because Carlsen is disagreeable,” said 
Martha. ‘‘And I think it would look better for you 


THE OLD FISHERMAN WILLINGLY CONSENTED TO TAKE THE PARTY IN HIS WAGON. 







THE MATE OF THE MAKY ANN 


91 


to show a little sympathy for me instead of for the 
thief. Ju has grown so sentimental,” she added, in 
an aside to Eobin. “She has been worse since those 
Rawlins girls were here. Peggy Rawlins was all the 
time talking about helping poor people.” 

Thanny had seated himself on a rock beside the 
road, and taken off his shoes. 

“ Do they pinch your toes, Thanny ?” asked Jean, 
sympathetically. 

“ R^o, my mind,” said Thanny. “ And this store 
jacket is jest as bad,” he added, as he relieved him- 
self of that also. “A feller that’s got anything to 
’tend to can’t stand it to be dressed up like the 
minister.” 

“What have you to attend to, Thanny? You’d 
better come home with us,” said Robin. 

“ If anybody is goin’ to try to make me take back 
what I said about that lion bein’ stuffed, he can jest 
come on !” said Thanny, rolling up his sleeves. “The 
fellers wanted me to make a rush with them, and 
make ’em give back the admission money ; but you 
see I got in on a job, and you can’t get a job back 
if you a)^e cheated. But I want ’em to jest try to 
make me say that that lion ain’t stuffed, that’s all ! 
1 never said he was stuffed with sawdust, anyhow ; 
that was ’Bednego Phillups. If he’s got a man in- 
side of him, that’s bein’ stuffed, ain’t it ?” 

“ A man inside him ?” repeated Jean. 

“Just like Jonah?” demanded Prim, breathlessly. 

“ They say it’s a feller from Goose Creek, but I 
don’t b’lieve that,” continued Thanny, shaking his 
head sagely. There ain’t no such talent up that 
way ; it’s an orfle dead-and-alive place. You see, his 


92 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

arms must be the fore-legs and his legs the hind-legs; 
and he’s got to roar loud, and he’s got to roar easy, 
and he’s got to make that tail lash round lively ; and 
I tell you it takes an orfle smart feller ! Ned Sears 
thinks there must be two fellers. Anyhow, it’s an 
orfle intellectyal part. The lightnin’ calc’lator ain’t 
nowhere compared to it. Oh, I wisht — ” 

‘‘You would better come home with us, Thanny,” 
interrupted Robin. 

“ I ain’t goin’ to run away as if I was afraid of 
nothin’. And I hain’t got my money’s — I mean my 
job’s — worth yet,” said Thanny, sitting flrrnly upon 
his rock. 

“ I wish we could go home with you,” Martha said 
to Robin, “ but I suppose they’re making a great 
fuss about us at home, as it is. Oh, I wish I could 
get my watch back before papa has to know about it ! 
Do you suppose he will give it up at once? Oh, 
there’s Carlsen i Can you get it ? — oh, Carlsen, can 
you get the watch ?” 

“ lie denies having it, of course,” said Carlsen, who 
was apparently in great haste. “ The officer hasn’t 
come yet, and there’s a great deal of disturbance. I 
think you may be annoyed if you do not go home at 
once. If I could leave — ” 

“We will go at once. Oh, do make him give up 
the watch !” cried Martha. “ I hope they will put 
him into prison for ten years,” she added. “ If I 
don’t get that back, papa will never let me have an- 
other.” 

“ Then what would become of his mother, whose 
hands are all drawn up with rheumatism, and his lit- 
tle crippled sister?” demanded Julia. 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ’’ 93 

Perhaps you think people ought to be allowed to 
go round stealing watches if their relatives are crip- 
pled,’- said Martha, sarcastically. 

“You can’t be sure in such a crowd, and I always 
thought Jo Wilkes had a good face,” persisted Julia. 

The two sisters fell into a wrangle, which made 
Kobin feel relieved to part from them at the marsh 
road, and caused Prim serious misgivings concerning 
the effect of such an example upon Traddles. That 
young person’s mind, however, was so much occupied 
with the mystery of a man inside the lion, that it 
might reasonably be hoped that she had not been 
affected by the quarrelling. 

“ There never was any disturbance at an entertain- 
ment here before,” remarked Jean. “I wonder if it 
w^as all the fault of those foolish boys who hissed, or 
of. the discharged men from the glass-works ? I wish 
Thanny would have come with us. Pm afraid he’ll 
get hurt. He seems perfectly crazy to be a perform- 
er in a show. How silly boys are ! You don’t sup- 
pose he would run away with it if he could get a 
chance, do jmu, Pobin ?” 

“ Ho; Thanny is foolish, but not so foolish as that,” 
said Kobin, carelessly. She was thinking more of 
Dave’s recognition of Carlsen, and of the delight in 
Ken’s face when he saw it than of Thanny, who, in- 
deed, had a sturdy Yankee faculty of taking care of 
himself, and was not likely to lose his prudence even 
in his ambition to be “ the man inside of the lion.” 
If Dave’s memory should return, it would be no 
longer a great calamity that the scrap of paper was 
lost ; and, whatever the boys’ great scheme might 
amount to, Ken could no longer be angry with her. 


94 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

It was weak and selfish for her to think so much of 
that, she felt, but as long as she could remember it 
had been the greatest of griefs to have Ken angry 
with her — Ken, who was often sullen and unreason- 
able, and sometimes seemed to have much more re- 
gard for the rights of Ken Dinsmore than of any 
one else. It w’as because poor Ken took things so 
hard that she felt so, she said to herself, and when 
he would not allow her to comfort him he had no 
one. 

She had an almost guilty feeling that the circus- 
going had been a success, in spite of the disturbance, 
Dave’s fainting, and Annette’s hysterics, and Mar- 
tha’s distress at the loss of her watch, since Dave 
had really shown that he remembered. Jean had 
misgivings as to the effect upon the twins’ morals, as 
well as upon Thanny Baker’s, of so much ‘‘make- 
believe” in lions and zebras, and felt that one could 
scarcely have confidence even in the tall giraffe, whose 
neck seemed so difficult of imitation ; and she said it 
was a dreadful circus, and she never wanted to go to 
another. The twins and Traddles were heated and 
weary, and disappointed at the abrupt termination of 
the programme, and even Prim’s deportment seemed 
in danger of collapse ; but as for Kobin, her heart was 
light. 

She was impatient for Ken to come home ; he 
would surely speak to her now that Dave’s mem- 
ory was coming back, so that she had not ruined 
them, as he had declared. She waited for him on 
the piazza, but it was almost dark when he came, 
and he hurried past her into the house without a 
word. 


95 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

“ Ken ! Ken ! how is Dave ? Can he remember 
called Jean. 

“He remembers that man of Mr. Rawlins’s. He 
grows excited and terrified at the sound of his name. 
But I couldn’t make him remember anything else. 
That girl made such a fuss that I couldn’t half try. 
Whatever a fellow tries to do, there’s always a ninny 
of a girl in the way.” 

It was evident that Ken was not in as good-humor 
as might have been expected. 

“I don’t blame Annette for making a fuss about 
Dave if she wants to ; he’s her brother,” said Jean, 
stoutly. 

“ Oh, of course she has a right to spoil all his 
chances of getting well if he’s her brother. That’s 
the way with sisters. They’ll do you all the harm 
they can, and look as soft and pretty all the while as 
if they couldn’t say boo to a goose.” 

“Ken, you are cross and horrid; you are so all the 
time now, and I don’t know what’s the matter with 
you,” said Jean, candidly. 

“Those Hallett girls, now; well, perhaps they’re 
not much sillier than other girls, but they never had 
a brother ; lucky for him I” Keji’s feelings were 
evidently deep, although his meaning was slight- 
ly obscure. “Ho, I don’t want anything to eat” — 
this was in answer to a modest suggestion from 
Robin. “I can’t stop. I want to know what is 
going on down at Quansett. They say there’s a 
great row, and half of those workmen are in the 
lock-up.” 

Ken went into the study to see his father; he was 
seldom in too great a hurry for that ; and soon after 


96 


THE MATE OF THE MAKY ANN ” 

they heard him running as fast as he could go down 
the road to Quansett. 

“Ken behaved so queerly,” said Jean, meditativel}^ 
“ He was so cross and excited ; but he’s cross most of 
the time lately. I heard him tell you that he was 
going to do something desperate. But I don’t sup- 
pose he meant much of anything, do you ? Boys 
seldom do.” 

Kobin was reflecting upon Ken’s behavior, and 
trying to think of some way to improve it, as she sat 
upon the piazza steps in the dusk, while Jean swung 
in Ken’s hammock, and commented, lazily, upon 
Ken’s unpleasing manners and those of boys in gen- 
eral. Bobin had just hit upon the practical effort of 
making him a new necktie of an uncommonly pretty 
piece of silk which she had hoarded up, when the 
quick breathing of a runner and the patter of bare 
feet told of Thanny’s arrival. 

“I’d ought to go right home; I don’ know what 
Saul ’ll say, but I knew you’d be wantin’ to know 
about that lion. Well, sir, it is Bert Cressy up to 
Goose Creek that’s his hind-legs! The manager he 
owned right up. After them rough fellers from the 
works was arrested there wa’n’t no more disturbance. 
The manager said he wa’n’t pickin’ no fuss with us 
small fellers, and he knew all along that we was too 
smart to be took in by that lion I But he thought 
there was consid’able more sport to him than there 
was to a real solum-true lion. You see, they had a 
lion that died, and they skun him and fixed him up 
so’st a boy could work his hind -legs, and he danced 
round then, and rode horseback, and ’twas great fun, 
and he ain’t a mite stuck up, Bert Cressy ain’t, and 


97 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

I liad an introduction to liim ! I wanted to stay this 
evening. I could have got a ticket, but Saul’s so 
orfle partickler. The folks from the hotels are goin’ 
to-night. I saw Ken, and I asked him if he was 
goin’, and he kind of snapped me up; he said he had 
something besides circuses to think of. I expect it’s 
that French boy. Ken hain’t never seemed as if he 
really was Ken sence — ” 

‘‘ Did you hear whether Martha Hallett’s watch was 
recovered, Thanny ?” interrupted Jean. 

“ The feller that stole it was took up ; that’s all I 
know,” said Thanny. Say, ’Bednego Phillups and 
me are goin’ to save up and get a lion’s skin, and 
have a show of our own. And I’m goin’ to send 
you compliment’ries, and the twins and Traddles and 
Moira.” 

Suitable acknowledgments were made of this gen- 
erous offer, and Thanny went proudly and hopefully 
homeward. 

‘‘ I guess I’ll send the minister a compliment’ry, 
too,” he said to himself, as his bare feet slid deli- 
ciously through the warm sand of the bluff. They’ll 
all come, ’thout it’s Ken. I wisht I knew what was 
the matter with Ken to-night.” 

Kobin’s thoughts reverted to the necktie as soon as 
Thanny had gone. Ken had a slight weakness in the 
matter of neckties, and he liked a brown and white 
stripe, like the piece of silk she had saved. She 
went up-stairs and found it, carefully folded away in 
her bureau drawer, and then she went into Ken’s room 
to find a necktie for a pattern. He was very par- 
ticular, and the length and the width must be exactly 
right. 

7 


98 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

Ken tossed liis things about so that liis favorite 
necktie was hard to find. And one must be careful, 
for he disliked to have his possessions disturbed. 
What queer things a boy would put into his bureau 
drawer ! — a patent folding fish-line, a fox’s brush — 
there were still foxes in the Deepmouth woods — a 
collection of unfinished photographs — Ken had had a 
great zeal for photography, but he had tired of that 
now — dried sunfish and specimens of felspar, the 
rules and regulations of the Quansett Boat Club — 
a boys’ club of which Ken was president and D’ri 
Prettygo, the shoemaker’s son, vice-president — knives 
in various stages of disability, a walrus’s tooth, and a 
paper of herrings which sometimes served for a late 
supper or a fishing breakfast at three o’clock in the 
morning. There were neckties tossed about among 
these precious possessions^the dainty little box which 
Kobin had given him to keep them in was empty on 
the dressing-table — and Kobin selected one for a 
model ; but one end caught upon something care- 
fully tucked away in a back corner of the drawer, 
and she pulled that forward also — a tiny watch, with 
the monogram M. H. upon one side, and a butterfly 
in diamonds upon the other side ! A piece of coarse 
brown paper was wrapped about it, but the bro- 
ken chain hanging out had caught in the satin of the 
necktie. 

Martha Hallett’s watch! Ken must have picked 
it up. It wasn’t that poor Jo Wilkes, after all, 
thought Kobin. But why — why had he not re- 
turned it at once ? Why had he hidden it away here ? 
Kobin’s heart stood still with a sudden terrible fear. 
But the next moment she laughed it away, ashamed 


99 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

that she should have felt it. Ken’s desperate deeds 
could never mean anything like that. How glad 
Martha Hallett would be to have it again, and how 
delightful it was that Jo Wilkes would be cleared at 
once! Probably Ken had not heard that Jo Wilkes 
had been arrested, absorbed as he was in his anxiety 
about Dave, and his delight at what seemed like a 
return of his memory. She could hardly wait for 
his return. When he had heard about Jo Wilkes, of 
course he would go over to Sandford at once; per- 
haps he had gone before this time, feeling that he 
could not delay long enough to come home for the 
watch. It would be like Ken to feel strongly for a 
person who was unjustly accused. 

She would put it back just where she had found 
it. Ken never liked to have people meddle with his 
possessions, and she would find out when he came 
home how it had all happened. He couldn’t be so 
cross but that he would tell her that. 

But she forgot all about the necktie. As she was 
going down-stairs, that dreadful fear seized her again. 
It was absurd, but it would come. She stood still on 
the landing, listening to Jean, who was repeating to 
sleepless, over-excited Traddles the soothing, monot- 
onous story of the boy and the kid. “ Water won’t 
quench fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t whip 
kid, kid won’t go along. Only look at the moon rise I 
It’s almost sunrise I Time I was at home an hour 
and a half ago.” How pleasant and cheerful were all 
the home ways and sounds Her father was right ; 
there was no trouble, none whatever, except wrong- 
doing. But Robin could never like to hear the fool- 
ish, sleepy little tale again ; it always brought back 


100 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

that moment on the stairs, when that fear had seized 
her like a giant’s grasp. 

She sat on the piazza stej^s and waited for Ken. 
She had to wait a long time. Ken was not like the 
kid-boy, who finally got home an hour and a half 
too soon. Traddles had long ago succumbed to the 
drowsy infiuences of the story. Lights and voices 
had gradually died away, until all the house was still. 
Only a half-awakened bird and the softly -slipping 
waves on the shore kept Kobin company. There was 
Ken at last, coming up the terrace steps with two 
leaps, as he always did. There was a vague comfort 
in that ; it seemed as if a boy with guilty deeds upon 
his mind would go guiltily, not with a hop, skip, and 
jump like that. 

She tried to speak, but the words would not come. 

“ Well, if it isn’t you !” exclaimed Ken, starting at 
sight of the small, dark figure. ‘‘ I should like to 
know what you are doing out here by yourself in 
the dark?” 

“ I — I — it was pleasant, and I thought I wouldn’t 
go in until you came,” stammered Kobin. 

It seems to me that you have taken a great no- 
tion of spying upon me lately. Perhaps you want to 
tell the governor that I wasn’t at home until ten 
o’clock. If you haven’t done me mischief enough — ” 

“You shouldn’t say such things to me, Ken, when 
you know I never meant to do you any mischief, and 
you know perfectly well that I never spy upon you,” 
said Kobin, with as much spirit as she could summon. 
“ I — I only wanted to ask you about those workmen 
who were arrested. What have they done with them ?” 

“ Done with them ? They’re in the lock-up over 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ’’ 


101 


at Sandford. They Ve been treated badly enough, but 
it was of no use for them to go to that circus and 
make a disturbance. I’m a friend of labor, but the 
laborers have got to behave decently, you know,” 
said Ken, sagely. 

“ But the one who was accused of stealing Martha 
Ilallett’s watch ?” stammered Bobin. 

“ Oh !” Ken started and frowned sharply. Kobin 
saw his face in a straggling inoonray. “The}^ will ac- 
cuse those fellows of anything! Why did you ask me 
that?” He turned suddenly upon her with an angry air. 

“I wanted to know. Martha was anxious about 
her watch. And — and” — Kobin’s voice gathered 
firmness — “I thought it would be such a dreadful 
thing if he were unjustly accused.” 

“ Why should you think he was unjustly accused? 
She lost her watch ; it was snatched, wasn’t it? She 
said she saw him do it.” 

“But I thought there might be — might be some 
mistake.” 

“ Be careful that you don’t make any mistakes 1” 
said Ken, with a harsh laugh, as he went by her into 
the hall. “ I’ll tell you one thing, Kobin Dinsmore, 
you’ve had your last chance of spying upon me I 
There’s no joke and no make-believe about it this 
time! I’m going away to-morrow. I’m not going 
to run away; my father will know all about it in the 
morning. Then you’ll have a chance to think what 
you’ve brought your only brother to!” 

“Oh, Ken, Ken!” cried Kobin, her voice broken 
by sobs. 

But Ken had gone up-stairs, and she heard the door 
of his room close behind him. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Robin rose early next morning. How could one 
sleep when Ken was going away, and when such 
doubts and fears about Ken lay heavy oiFone’s heart? 
Although he had cried “Wolf!” so many times, Robin 
did not doubt that he was really going now. It was not 
only that he had announced his intention in a differ- 
ent manner from his usual one, but there was the 
mystery about the watch. If he had — had done any- 
thing strange about it (Robin refused to put the 
dreadful matter plainly even to her own mind), that 
would be a reason for his going. 

Only Moira was astir in the house — Moira and 
Adam, the monkey, whom the old woman had found 
to be “foine company,” and with whom she kept up 
an animated dialogue, she dropping into her ancient 
Irish tongue, and he chattering his queer monkey 
falsetto, which had a plaintive tone. Adam be- 
haved better with Moira than with any one else, 
perhaps because she had imbibed a great respect 
for his intelligence, and invariably addressed him 
as “Sorr.” The sun had only just risen over the 
Sandford w^oods, and the earliest bird matins were 
not yet over, but looking out of her window Robin 
espied a boy on a pony, riding up and down be- 
fore the house, apparently waiting for some one. 
A nearer view showed her that it was Duke Rawlins. 


THE MATE- OF THE “ MARY ANN 


103 


He took off liis cap with a boyish bhish when he saw 
her, and Hobin ran down-stairs. He was probably 
waiting to see Ken, but she hesitated to call him, he 
-would be so cross. He seemed to have guessed last 
night that she had discovered his possession of the 
watch, and to be more angry with her than ever. 
Moreover she did not know whether he would care 
to see Duke Kawlins ; it seemed to her that the two 
boys would now have very little in common in spite 
of their agreement about the rights of labor. 

“ Does Ken really stick to it, and will his father 
allow him to go Duke asked, eagerly, as she ran 
down the terrace steps. 

‘H don’t know; he only told me that he was going 
away,” answered Kobin, flushing with mortiflcation 
that Ken should conflde in her so little. 

“He seemed wild to go as soon as I told him of 
the opportunity. He said things had gone awfully 
wrong with him. I don’t know what things they 
were.” Duke said this inquiringly, watching Kobin’s 
face. “ If I could have helped him — but he didn’t 
tell me, and I don’t suppose I could. I’ve found out 
that a fellow has to help himself ; that’s the only help 
in this world that amounts to anything in the long- 
run. But he said he must go away; lie was desperate 
enough to go as sailor on board a yacht, if he could 
get a chance. Of course I knew liis father would 
never consent to that, and I tried to convince him 
that he’d be awfully sick of it. He told me that 
he wanted to study chemistry; that was all the book- 
learning that he ever cared for, and he had a special 
reason for wanting to learn that. I happened to re- 
member that my tutor’s brother was a manufacturing 


104 


TUE MATE OF THE “MARY ANN 


?7 


chemist in Boston, and that I’d heard my tutor say 
the day we were in Boston on our way down here 
that his brother wanted him to find him a boy ‘ with 
something in liim.’ Mr. Eames said the boy would 
be expected to do everything, he thought — errands, 
and perhaps even drudgery ; but Ken didn’t flinch. 
I thought it would be hard for him if his father 
wouldn’t let him go. Fathers don’t always under- 
stand, you know; mine doesn’t, anyway. I don’t 
mean that a fellow always knows what is best for 
him, of course ; but it does seem as if work would be 
good for Ken, he seems so restless, and as if he had 
a lot on his mind.” Duke again looked inquiringly at 
Kobin. 

“ He has been disappointed about something,” she 
said. “I — I wish boys wouldn’t think they can do 
such great things. I wish he would be contented to 
go to school and study, as papa wants him to.” 

“ When a fellow doesn’t take naturally to books 
he generally has to find out for himself the great 
value of them before he’ll study. Sometimes then 
he can’t get a chance. I didn’t get that from my 
tutor; I found it out for myself,” he added, half 
laughingly. 

“ I think you’re very wise — for a boy,” said Bobin, 
candidly. “ I wish Ken were half as wise.” 

“ I shouldn’t want him to go to the same school,” 
said Duke, looking ruefully at his shortened leg. 
“ But I don’t mean to howl. There was an old fel- 
low, you know, who, ‘ when his legs were smitten off, 
he fought upon his stumps.’ I mean to be like that. 
Here’s a nice bit, too, that reminded me of the old 
fellow.” Duke drew a well-worn note- book from 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 105 

liis pocket. “ ‘I am a man of no strength at all of 
body, nor yet of mind, but I would, if I could, though 
I can but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim’s way. 
Other brunts I also look for, but this I have resolved 
on, to wit, to run when I can, to go when I cannot 
run, and to creep when I cannot go. As to the main, 
I thank Him that loves me.’ But that is too — too 
sacred.” He stopped suddenly and replaced the book. 
“ I say, you don’t think I’m preachy, do you ? A 
bit like that helps me. And I can talk to you, some 
way ; you seem like Peggy.” He had dismounted and 
thrown himself on the grass beside Robin. 

“ Oh, I’m not like her ! I’m not a bit saintly,” 
said Robin. 

“Peggy a saint! Well, I should like her to hear 
that,” he said, with a gay laugh. “ She wants to work 
and to help people, that’s all. She likes to, you know. 
We have come on ahead, she and I, with the servants, 
to see to setting things to rights. I wanted to know, 
too, about the trouble in the works. My father won’t 
allow me to meddle, as he calls it. He says that 
when I am twenty-five I shall have everything my 
own way. I am going to try to get strong enough 
to be a business man for that, to show them that 
there needn’t be any contest between capital and 
labor. They laugh at me because I’m only a boy, 
but if they’d only give me a chance I’d show them!” 
Duke’s thin high-keyed voice grew shrill with excite- 
ment, and his pale cheeks fiushed. 

“ Those men who were arrested — do you know — ” 
Robin wanted to ask about Jo Wilkes, but she could 
not find voice. 

Duke knitted his brows painfully, “Of course 


106 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

they were sure to be in the mood for mischief, turned 
away like tliat. Carlsen is determined not to have 
any men wlio belong to the union. I wish my father 
would not trust that man so. I don’t mean that he 
is dishonest, but he’s an old grinder; that’s what I 
heard one of the men say, and I know it’s true. I 
hoped Mr. Hallett would see that his ways were not 
right, but he seems to think he has been too easy, and 
goes about chuckling over Carlsen’s ability to make 
them gee. If I ever do have anything to say about 
the business — ” Duke’s girlishly blue eyes kindled. 
“But it’s a great while to wait,” he added, with a long 
sigh. “ But Peggy and I are going to look after the 
families of those poor fellows. My father never ob- 
jects to that. If he hadn’t allowed us to do that 
the men wouldn’t have come back in the last strike. 
And Carlsen took all the credit to himself. How do 
Dave Freneau and his sister get along? Ken was 
coming from their house when I met him yesterday, 
but he wouldn’t say much about Dave. I thought 
he didn’t seem very hopeful. He said he thought 
his memory was returning, but the girl spoiled every- 
thing. He said she was a regular screech-owl.” 

“Poor Annette! she’s very excitable, and Ken 
hasn’t much patience with girls; he doesn’t like them 
so very well,” said Kobin, with a great sigh. 

“ That’s queer, when he has sisters — sisters are such 
a comfort to a fellow,” said Duke, with feeling. 

“ Oh, I — I’m not ! I was careless and — and mean, 
and did him a lot of harm,” faltered Kobin ; and 
then she stopped suddenly ; there was so much that 
she could not tell, that it was better to tell nothing. 
“ Ken has had a great deal to vex him since — since 


107 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

Dave Freneau got hurt,’’ she resumed, controlling 
her voice by a great effort. 

Ken was coming down the walk ; he looked sur- 
prised, and scowled a little at Kobin as she ran 
away. 

Do make him stay to breakfast,” she said, with 
an effort at being quite at her ease. But Ken only 
scowled the more. 

Duke went away, and Ken walked the hall rest- 
lessly until the time when his father could see him. 
They were together for a long time in the study, and 
Ken came out to the breakfast - table with his face 
brightened considerably. 

‘‘ He is willing to let me go,” he said, somewhat 
gruffly, as if he didn’t wish to speak to her, Bobin 
thought, but was impelled by his longing for sympa- 
thy. He sees that it’s the best thing. He thinks 
I shall want to come back by the time school begins, 
but I sha’n’t. I shall never want to come back to 
this poky little hole, where there’s no chance for a 
fellow, and everything goes against him.” Ken stood 
by the table and swallowed a hasty cup of coffee. 
He couldn’t eat; he had too much to do and to think 
of, he said ; which was a very unusual condition for 
Ken. ‘‘I’ve got to go to-day, you know, for fear 
some other fellow will get the chance. I must take 
the afternoon train up, and it gets to Sandford about 
two o’clock. You’ll have to fly round to see to my 
things. I’ve got to get a letter that Mr. Fames is 
going to give me, and I’ve got something else to at- 
tend to over there, too.” 

Kobin’s Iieart leaped. “Something else” might be 
to return the watch! She could not resist giving 


108 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

him a glance of wistful inquiry, which, however, he 
was too deeply absorbed to observe. 

“I’m going to see some of my friends,” he said, 
after a moment’s hesitation. “ Poor Dave ! — I feel 
the worst about leaving him. Of course, there are 
my father and mother, and all of you ” — this amend- 
ment was drawn forth by a faint exclamation of re- 
proach from Robin — “ but sometimes a boy’s own 
people don’t understand him very well ; they think 
he is selfish and good for nothing, when he only just 
isn’t in his right place. It’s very well for Duke 
Rawlins to say that any place can be made the right 
one if a boy is plucky. He doesn’t know everything. 
He’s a good fellow — an awfully good little fellow, 
though.” 

“ I think he is the very nicest boy I ever knew,” 
said Robin, warmly ; “ and he thinks so much of liis 
sisters 1” 

“I suppose they don’t bother him, and spoil every- 
thing he undertakes, and spy round, think every- 
thing bad of him, and keep nagging at him about 
Greek and mathematics and such rubbish. I think 
my father is finding out that every boy wasn’t born 
to dig away at books — the dear old dad !” Ken’s 
eyes filled with tears. They were the first that 
Robin had seen there since Wolf, his fine old hound, 
died, the first year they were at Penauhant. “I 
didn’t know how bad things were,” Ken went on, 
with a little quaver in his voice. “I suppose you 
do, and I — I ought to ; but I thought I was going 
to make us millionaires. We should have been, 
Robin, but for that accident to Dave. Even if 
you had taken care of that paper — But it’s of 


109 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘mARY ANN ” 

no use to talk about it, and it makes a fellow half 
wild.” 

“I’m afraid I shall have to sell the cranberry 
meadow,” said Robin. 

“You can’t get what it’s w’orth. Keep it if you 
can — there’s going to be such a crop. Didn’t father 
say so ?” 

“ If we can get along,” said Robin. “ He doesn’t 
know.” 

“I shall send money home. Just let me have a 
chance, and you’ll see whether I’m good for nothing.” 

“Ken, did — did father give you money for your 
expenses ?” asked Robin, haltingly. 

“ He couldn’t. Think of it ! I told him I had a 
way to get the money, and he seemed so relieved. 
It isn’t a nice way; a fellow has to do desperate 
deeds sometimes.” Ken’s tone was bitter and reck- 
less. “ You know I told you I was going to, and I 
have. Any w’ay is better than to worry the poor old 
governor about it.” 

“Oh, not any way, Ken !” cried Robin. “Hot a 
way that would — that would hurt others.” 

“ Others !” echoed Ken, bitterly. “ I’ve begun to 
think it’s about time that I looked out for myself a 
little. You would sacrifice me and every one else to 
that silly pride of yours, anyway. You needn’t be 
afraid ; what I’ve done won’t be known to the pub- 
lic.” Ken laughed harshly. “ There, I don’t want 
to talk about it. Some things are more than a fellow 
can stand. What should I have said when I was 
standing up for that poor little lame fellow up at 
St. Luke’s to know that I should come to this ? But 
he’s a good fellow ; his sisters have a better brother 


110 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

than you have. But if I have disgraced you, just re- 
member who brought me to it.” 

‘‘Ken, Ken!” cried Kobin, “you won’t do any- 
thing that would Ivill papa.” 

“Kill papa? IIow is it going to kill him when 
be won’t know it unless you tell liim? Perhaps 
3"ou’ll think it your duty to tell him.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know what is my duty !” said Kobin, 
despairingly. 

“Well, I’ll tell you — it’s to go and get my trunk 
ready. I’m going now to get Solomon Gross to carry 
it over to Sandford. I can ride over with him, and 
I wish you’d hurry, for I want to be off.” 

Kobin sat motionless, her face buried in her hands. 

“I believe you want to drive me crazy!” exclaimed 
Ken. “I should like to know if it isn’t hard enough 
for me to have to do such a miserable thing, and be 
ashamed to look anybody in the face ? Of course I 
shall pay it as soon as I can. Do you suppose I shall 
ever have any peace until it is paid ? But there ! I 
won’t talk to 3^011 ; you’re the very worst sister a boy 
ever had!” And Ken shut the door energetically 
behind him. 

“ Pa3^ it — pay it ; but what is to become of poor 
Jo Wilkes?” Kobin murmured to herself. She 
wished that she had courage to say it to Ken him- 
self. Ken, her own brother, was capable of such a 
thing as that ! She had alwa3"s felt a lack of straight- 
forwardness in Ken. He was more conscious of his 
own rights than of those of other people ; he never 
seemed to feel how ignoble it was to shirk ; but that 
he was capable of a theft, a base, common theft — 
that was like a nightmare ; it could not be true ! 



“ ‘ you’re the tery worst sister a boy ever had.’ ” 


Trr «' 







Ill 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

It was a relief to occupy herself with the packing ; 
she would force everything else out of her mind, she 
said to herself. He could not have meant that, any- 
way ; he could not have owned to such a deed as 
that ! And yet that was Martha Hallett’s watch in 
his drawer. Perhaps Jo Wilkes had snatched it, and 
then dropped it; but it was much more probable 
that Martha had dropped it, the chain having broken 
by accident in the crowd. The Hallett girls were 
proverbially inexact; they were always being per- 
fectly sure of things, and not seeming to feel it to be 
of the least consequence when they were proven to 
be entirely wrong. Ken had undoubtedly picked 
the watch up, but he had not returned it. He meant 
to pay for it when he had earned money enough. 
He seemed to think that would atone, and he cared 
nothing for the wrong and disgrace to poor Jo 
Wilkes. 

“ It’s the queerest thing I ever heard of for Ken 
to go off like this,” Jean was saying, as she helped. 
“Why is he in such a hurry? He almost knocked 
me down on the steps. Oh, why wasn’t I a boy ? 
Mamma is crying. She says the best always goes 
first, and she is afraid tliat no one has thought of 
making him comfortable since she hasn’t been able 
to. As if she ever — ” 

“Hush, Jean! you mustn’t say it. Poor little 
mamma! we’ll never say it, Jean.” 

“ But it isn’t the best who is going, all the same,” 
said Jean, sturdily. “ He is cross all the time, lately. 
All he says to me is ‘ get out of the way !’ He re- 
minds me of Annette Freneau. Ken used to be quite 
nice. I thought he would be so pleased at going 


112 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANn” 

away that it would make him good-natured, but he is 
only wild to be gone. One would think he was run- 
ning away from something.” 

‘‘ Jean, dorCt say such things!” cried Eobin, sliarply. 
She had been aroused suddenly from her reflections 
at Jean’s last words, and they seemed the confirma- 
tion of her \vorst fears. 

‘‘ I should like to know what I can say !” said Jean, 
crossly. “ I didn’t mean that I supposed he was run- 
ning away from anything but too many girls, and 
Latin lessons, and being poor. I didn’t mean that I 
thought he had done anything dreadful. You’re 
tumbling those things awfully, Eobin. It isn’t a 
bit like you. You’re in as much of a hurry as he is. 
Oh, of course, if Ken wants to go right away — you 
always would do anything for Ken. I suppose we 
shall go over to see him off, you and I ; mamma said 
we must, though I can’t say I think he will care 
much about it.” 

‘‘ Of course we must go,” said Eobin, and wondered 
that she had not thought of it. She had, in truth, 
been only in a hurry to get him off. 

The trunk was ready long before Solomon Gross 
came for it. Ken came with the old man, and took 
a hasty leave of his father and mother. He was in a 
greater liurry than ever, and Eobin could not be sure 
whether the tears upon his cheeks were his mother’s 
or his own. 

“ You say good-bye to the youngsters, Eobin, and 
let Posy be a little sticky if she wants to, for my 
sake. You and Jean are coming over to the station ?” 
Ken frowned slightly. “ Well, I suppose you will en- 
joy seeing the last of a fellow,” he continued, jestingly. 


113 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN^’ 

They were his own tears, Robin knew by the 
savage way in which he wiped them off. “ I shouldn’t 
blame you if you were glad to get rid of me. I — I 
haven’t been much of a fellow, and I can’t purr 
when I’m stroked the wrong way, any more than 
Banquo. That’s the way with girls ; boys never can.” 

“ I don’t know why boys shouldn’t have to put up 
with things just as much as girls,” said Jean, stoutly. 
‘‘ Anyway, you’ll find out when you’re away from 
home, and haven’t any one to darn your stockings or 
make lemon jelly for you.” 

‘‘Good-bye, Jean; you can have all my old neck- 
ties to dress your dolls.” 

“Dolls, indeed!” cried Jean, indignantly. Jean 
professed to be quite beyond dolls ; but Ken had dis- 
covered secrets in the unfinished attic on a rainy 
day. And so Ken went, his long legs dangling from 
the back of Solomon Gross’s wagon, there being only 
room for his trunk in front with the driver, joking 
gayljq but with signs of trouble plainly visible on 
liis boyish face. 

“I won’t believe that he has done anything bad ; I 
can’t believe it,” said Robin to herself, as she stood 
watching, with her eyes shaded from the sunlight, until 
Solomon Gross’s wagon had turned out of sight down 
the marsh road. “ But I shall know soon. I can find 
out from Martha Hallett whether he has returned the 
watch.” 

One might say that one would not and could not 
believe, but still the torturing doubt remained, and 
Robin both longed for and dreaded the time when 
she should learn the truth from Martha Hallett. 
There were many friends assembled at the station to 

8 


114 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAKY ANN” 

see Ken off ; he was a favorite among the Sandford 
High-school boys, and a crowd of tlieni was there. 
People had come over from the Quansett Hotel also, 
and Cap’ll Saul and Thanny were in their store 
clothes,” regardless of the claims of ‘^stiddy day’s 
works.” Cap’n Saul sought to console Kobin by proph- 
esying that Ken would “ make a man of himself,” 
but Thanny took a despondent view of the matter; 
he said it all came of Ken’s “ goin’ with them French- 
ies,” and it was evident that he held Annette Freneau 
directly responsible. Peggy and Kitty Kawlins were 
there, with Duke, full of sympathy and cheerful 
prophecies, and the Hallett girls loudly lamenting 
that Ken should go away before their tennis party, 
and trying to persuade him to promise solemnly ” 
to return for their midsummer picnic. Ken was 
more annoyed than cheered by all this attention, 
Kobin thought, although he was usually such a 
‘‘good fellow” among his friends; but then Ken 
never did like the Hallett girls. He was still evi- 
dently in a hurry to be off. His face wore a look of 
relief at Kobin’s last glimpse of it in the car window, 
as, amid a great shouting and waving of handkerchiefs, 
the heavily panting engine rushed away with him. 

“You and Jean are coming home with us, aren’t 
you ?” said Martha Rawlins. 

“ Oh, you must ! Peggy and Kitty will come too, 
and we’ll cheer you up,” said Julia. 

Jean was pinching her arm furtively; Jean, of 
course, wanted to go. 

Could she have the heart to go? thought Kobin. It 
all depended upon what Martha Hallett should tell her. 
How light her heart would be if — if — 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 115 

“ Tell me, first, about those workmen who made 
the disturbance — about the man who was arrested.” 

“ Oh yes ; did you get your watch ?” asked Jean — • 
happy Jean — who knew no reason for beating about 
the bush. 


CHAPTER IX. 


‘‘ On, don’t say anything to me about that watch ! 
I’ve had such a time !” cried Martha, growing very 
red in the face. “I never saw papa so angry. He 
said he was having trouble enough with the men 
without being obliged to have one arrested for steal- 
ing. He talked in that way, instead of sympathizing 
with me about my watch. As if I were to blame ! 
When we were little girls we used to go about alone 
anywhere that we liked. After we began to go to 
Hew York in the winter, mamma found that was 
common, so we had to have a maid, and now we can’t 
stir without Miss Ferris at our heels.” 

‘‘ Papa doesn’t care about the commonness, you 
know’,” explained Julia, ‘‘ but he is afraid the work- 
men will be rude to us.” 

‘‘They w’ere, sure enough, yesterday, at the circus, 
the horrid things !” said Martha. “ I hope they’ll 
have to stay in jail long enough to pay for it. I 
never had such a fright.” 

“Did you get your watch?” persisted Jean, who 
had found it needful to add to her daily devotions a 
prayer that she might not envy Martha Hallett that 
watch. 

“ Get it ! Why, of course one doesn’t expect to 
get it,” said Martha, impatiently. “ I shall be satis- 
fied if Pm not scolded any more about it, and if papa 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN 


117 


doesn’t fulfil his threat to send me to the State ISTor- 
mal School. Only think of it ! that dreadful place 
where they manufacture teachers, and you have to 
study. He means it, too; that’s the worst of papa, 
he always means things. He says it would make a 
woman of me — as if I wanted to be made a woman 
of !” added Martha, in an aggrieved tone. 

‘‘Oh, I wish I could go — somewhere — to learn 
to do something to earn money !” Hobin burst 
forth in spite of herself. “ Oh, I don’t know what 
I’m saying; of course I couldn’t go,” she added, 
hastily. 

“ Kobin, what is the matter?” cried Jean. “ You’re 
pale, and you look so — so frightened !” 

“It’s nothing, only — only there seems to be so 
much trouble,” faltered Kobin. “And of course I 
should like to be something some day besides the 
mate of the Mary Ann^'' Kobin tried to speak 
lightly, there was so much surprise and concern in 
the faces around her. 

Martha, who had looked at her curiously, drew a 
long breath. “ I call that fun,” she said. “ I couldn’t 
be mate of so much as a row-boat without having 
Miss Ferris perched np in the bow, like ‘the sweet 
little cherub that sits up aloft.’ ” 

“You really ought not to talk like that, Martha,” 
said Julia, reprovingly. “She always tries to be 
kind, and I’m sure she dislikes to tag us round as 
much as we dislike to have her.” 

“ Hid they search him ?” asked Jean, whose mind 
Tvas not to be diverted from the watch. “ Why, how 
you jumped, Kobin ! What atartled you ?” 

“it’s no wonder she did; you will keep talking 


118 THE MATE OF TEE “ MAKY ANn” 

about that horrid man!” said Martha, crossly. ‘‘I 
wish people would let me forget all about it.” 

“ I don’t see how you can forget that lovely watch,” 
said Jean. 

“ I can’t help thinking of Jo Wilkes’s mother and 
that pitiful-looking little crippled sister,” said Julia. 

“ They’ll be taken care of ; he belongs to the union, 
and the men look out for each other,” said Martha. 
“ And he isn’t any worse off than the others ; they’ll 
all be fined or imprisoned for making a disturbance.” 

‘‘ But stealing is different, Martha ; of course he’ll 
have a long sentence, and then there’s the disgrace ; 
it will break his mother’s heart,” persisted Julia. 
^‘Mrs. Farnwell was talking to me about it this 
morning; she pities Jo’s mother so; she says that 
she came of as respectable a family as any on the 
Cape ; her father was a Fleet well sea-captain.” 

“ Why doesn’t she go back there, then ?” said Mar- 
tha, quickly. Probably she has friends who would 
take care of her. Or perhaps Jo will get clear; who 
knows ? I don’t see how they can prove anything.” 

“ You said you 'knew it was he, Martha, and they’ll 
make you go to court and swear,” said Julia. “Oh 
dear, you don’t suppose they’ll make us all go, do 
you? Pm sure I don’t know anything about it; do 
you, Pobin ?” 

They were going along the broad street now, in the 
cheerful afternoon sunshine. Robin had accompanied 
the Hallet girls, scarcely realizing where she was go- 
ing, absorbed in her eagerness to unravel the mystery 
of the watch. It was frightfully clear now. Ken 
had done “a desperate deed,” as he had threatened. 
The opportunity had come to him, and he had not 


119 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN” 

hesitated to take it. He could do without his father’s 
money, because that watch would pay the expenses 
of his start in life. He “should pay it back as soon 
as he could ; he should never have any peace until he 
could pay it and that seemed to him to make it 
right. 

What should she do? Oh, what coxild she do? 
thought Robin, with her brain in a whirl, while the 
girls chattered on, and Julia confided to her that she 
knew just how she felt, because she was almost bro- 
ken-hearted when Martha went away for a little 
while, although they quarrelled so often, and Martha 
was generally “horrid.” She must clear Jo Wilkes 
from the unjust suspicion ; she must pay for the 
watch. It would be long before Ken, with the wages 
of a boy and his careless ways, would be able to pay 
for it ; but how could she expose Ken’s guilt, and 
bring upon her father the disgrace and distress of 
mind which would be more than he could bear ? 

Go to court repeated Martha, slowly. “I 
sha’n’t have to go to court, shall I ?” She had been 
silent, evidently revolving this idea in her mind, 
while Julia and Jean chattered, and Robin was being 
tortured with her doubts and dreads. “ I wouldnH 
go, anyway ; they couldn’t make me.” 

“ You would go if papa threatened to send you to 
the Kormal School,” said Julia. “ That’s Martha’s 
standing dread. Papa never threatens to send me. I 
suppose because I’m not so bright as Martha , he 
knows it wouldn’t be of any use.” 

“ I wish I had been bright enough to stay away 
from that horrid old circus that wasn’t any fun, any- 
way,” said Martha, dolefully. “ There seems to be 


120 


THE MATE OF TIJE “mARY ANN ” 

no end to tlie fuss about it. I wish they would just 
let Jo Wilkes go, and not say any more about it. I 
should think they might if Ihn willing. It was my 
watch.’’ 

‘‘ If he is really a thief I suppose that wouldn’t do, 
would it ?” said Julia, doubtfully. 

‘‘ He would have to bear the disgrace just the same ; 
no one would ever trust him,” said Robin, reflectively. 

“If people steal you can’t wish them to get off 
altogether ; they might do it again, you know,” said 
Jean, sagely. 

“ He’ll have to go away from here, anyway,” said 
Martha. “ Hone of those men who were discharged 
will be taken back again. I heard papa say that they 
were determined upon that. He said it was time 
that the manufacturers had the control of things. 
Ho workmen are so high and mighty as the glass- 
men, you know. The union dictates how long the 
apprentices shall serve — just think of it ! That’s so 
that they can keep their skill and their secrets all to 
themselves, and demand what wages they choose. 
All that is going to be changed, papa says ; and al- 
though all those men who were discharged were ap- 
prentices in the fourth grade, it is of no use for them 
to stay round here; not one will be hired again. 
And they will hire foreigners if they like. The 
union tries to keep them out, you know ; that is one 
reason why they dislike Carlsen so — he is a foreigner. 
I wonder if he wouldn’t help me to get Jo Wilkes 
released? I carCt go to court — I should die! but it 
would be just like papa to make me.” 

“ I wish — I wish he could get free,” said Robin, 
with a kind of suppressed eagerness. 


121 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

Perhaps the disgrace would not matter to him if 
he were going away; at all events, it would not kill 
him, as it would her father; and the watch could be 
paid for, perhaps, without any exposure of Ken’s 
wickedness. It would be sacrificing Jo Wilkes un- 
justly; Robin was not for an instant blind to that 
fact ; but what could one do when things were so 
hard, so unendurable ? Could she be expected to ac- 
cuse her brother — she, the only one who knew — and 
have him arrested as a thief, brought into court to 
stand his trial instead of Jo Wilkes? He had not 
snatched it, of course ; he had only picked it up and 
kept it ; but that could not be very different in the 
eye of the law, as it was not in reality. 

“ I wish he could get free and go away,” she re- 
peated, all the eagerness appearing now in her face 
and voice. 

‘‘ Why do you wish so ?” said Martha, turning 
upon her suddenly. 

It was well that Julia answered for her, for Robin 
could scarcely find her voice, in her sudden fear lest 
she were betraying Ken in her anxiety to shield him. 

“How can she help wishing so, thinking of his 
mother and sister?” said Julia. “I suppose one 
ought to wish a thief to get his deserts; but Jo 
Wilkes has such an honest face, it is hard to believe 
him a real thief. I think those other fellows must 
have urged him on. Carlsen has made them so bit- 
ter they are ready for anything. I wish he never 
had come here, if papa does think he is going to do 
great things for the works.” 

“ I wish I had gone down to the works and found 
Carlsen, and asked him to get Jo Wilkes off,” said 


122 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

Martha, anxiously. “ I can’t get tliat court out of 
my mind. Fancy my having to get upon a stand, 
and hold up my right hand, and swear to things ! 
Those lawyers confuse one so, too ! I went once 
with papa, so I know all about it ; and 1 know I 
couldn’t endure it.” 

“ Would it be as bad as the normal school?” said 
Jean, jestingly. 

“ Oh, girls, it isn’t a joking matter !” exclaimed 
Martha, piteously. ‘‘Will you come with me and 
find Carlsen? You will, Kobin, I am sure.” 

‘‘ I must say you’re not very polite, Martha, when 
we’re almost home, and the Rawlins girls and Duke 
promised to come to tea,” remonstrated Julia. 

“We can be at home before tea-time,” said Mar- 
tha, “ and we can have out the pony. It is too warm 
for tennis, and driving will be much nicer. There is 
only room for four in the phaeton, so Miss Ferris 
can’t tag. AVouldn’t you like to go, girls?” 

Robin had to try not to show too great eager- 
ness, and Jean was quite ready for a drive behind 
the fat, long-tailed pony, which was her especial ad- 
miration. 

“We ought to have Peggy and Duke with us,” 
suggested Julia, as they drove along, Martha keeping 
the fat pony up to his liveliest pace. “ They must 
have some influence over Carlsen, though I’m not 
sure that they would think Jo Wilkes ought to be let 
off if he is a thief.” 

“It isn’t a question of letting Jo Wilkes off, but 
of letting me off from that dreadful court,” said 
Martha. “ Carlsen likes to keep on the right side of 
us,” she added, shrewdly. “ Papa is the senior part- 


MAHTIIA KEPT THE FAT PONY UP TO HIS LIVELIEST PACE. 









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THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 123 

ner, after all, and lie lias the more money, although 
the Rawlinses are so — so swell.” 

“Now, I should like to know if you are not talk- 
ing about money and being vulgar?” exclaimed Julia, 
who was not too good-natured to take her revenge 
when an opportunity offered. 

“ Money is worth talking about if it will save one 
from going to court,” said Martha. “ Oh, how I wish 
I had never said a word about the watch !” 

“ Papa would have had to know some time ; he 
would find out that you had lost it,” said Julia. 

“ And perhaps you’ll get it again,” suggested Jean. 

“He could have passed it on to some one else. 
Those men are all in league with each other,” said 
Martha. 

“I don’t think I should mind going to court so 
very much,” said Jean, reflectively. “It’s only to 
tell the plain truth. And though, of course, one 
would pity his mother and little sister, I don’t see 
why one should feel so badly for the thief. He 
needn’t snatch watches,” she added, stoutly. 

“I wonder if he wouldn’t confess and restore the 
watch, if some one were to talk to him? I might 
ask Peggy Rawlins to go to see him with me,” said 
Julia. 

“ Oh, dear me! will you let me get Jo Wilkes off, 
if I can, without such a fuss ?” cried Martlia, impa- 
tiently. “After that you can go missionarying, and 
be just like Peggy Rawlins, if you want to.” 

“I’m not good, like her,” said Julia, regretfully. 
“ I wonder if she would have been so good if she 
had been freckled, and rolly-poly, and her nose almost 
a pug?” 


124 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN 

‘^Almost a png!” echoed Martha, with a shrill, 
provoking little laugh — almost 

Perhaps it was fortunate that they had reached 
the glass-works, for Julia was apt to resent deeply 
any uncomplimentary suggestions upon her appear- 
ance. She alighted, grumblingly, at her sister’s re- 
quest, and went into the counting-room. Their father 
was never there at this hour, but Martha declared 
that she was afraid to face his alpaca coat, which 
hung upon a nail there, while he was so angry with 
her. “ He is never so angry with J u,” she explained. 
“ He thinks she went to the circus because I enticed 
her, and she the older, too 1 It’s really ridiculous.” 

‘‘Carlsen isn’t here,” said Julia, reappearing, after 
a few minutes. “They say he drove away in his 
buggy ; and one man thinks he saw him turn down 
the marsh road.” 

“ Perhaps we shall meet him,” said Martha, after 
knitting her brows for a moment. “At all events, 
we may as well drive there as anywhere ; it’s a pleas- 
ant road.” 

Pobin strained her eyes even more eagerly than 
Martha to catch a glimpse of Carlsen, but it was all 
in vain. 

“ He probably went over to Quansett; the man said 
he had been gone quite a while ; and he may have 
taken the short-cut home, along the edge of the Honey- 
pot,” suggested Julia. “ The road is bad, but he is 
always in a hurry. Papa says he is bound to be rich ; 
he won’t let anything stand in his way.” 

“ I wish we could find him. I sha’n’t sleep a wink 
to-night for thinking of that witness stand,” said 
Martha. 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN” 125 

“Here we are at tlie Freneau house,” said Julia. 
“'And there’s Annette in the door. What is the 
matter, I wonder ? She is crying and wringing her 
hands.” 

“ Oh, that little tempest ! I dare say she does it 
in her sleep,” said Martha, impatiently, and was driv- 
ing on. 

Robin begged her to stop. “ It must be something 
serious to make her behave like that,” she said. 

In fact, Annette was the embodiment of frantic 
distress and wrath. She sobbed and screamed, she 
wrung her hands, and twisted her apron as if she were 
wreaking vengeance upon an enemy. 

“Oh, have you meet him — that bad man that 
carry away my Dave ?” she cried, as Robin alighted 
and went towards her. 

“Dave carried away?” exclaimed Robin. 

“ Yes, it is that wicked man! He have throw 
dust in my Dave’s eyes. He have talk and talk to 
him about glass ; he have try to find out what Dave 
know, what my father have told him. Rut he have 
found out nothing! For once I have been glad that 
he know nothing, my poor Dave !” 

“ What is she talking about ?” asked Martha. 

“ I think she means Carlsen,” said Robin, thrilled 
with a new anxiety. Could he have made Dave re- 
member, when Ken could not ? 

“Carlsen! oh, where is he? Which way did he 
go ?” exclaimed Martha, who was not to be moved 
from her own purpose by all Annette’s tears. 

“ He have carried off my Dave!” repeated Annette. 
“ He would not listen to me ; I have followed and 
hung on the wagon, and he have laugh at me.” 


126 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

“ Did lie carry liim off against liis will ?” asked 
Kobin. 

‘‘ What is it that is Dave’s will ? He poor foolish 
boy now. The bad man throw dust in his eyes. He 
tell him of the fine things they make at the works 
now ; he want to show him, he say ; as if we have 
not seen flint-glass where we come from, Dave and 
me, and make it, too! Dave know how to do the 
whole if they would let him. Our father, he was 
master melter!” Annette said this with an inde- 
scribable air of pride ; for a moment she had for- 
gotten her trouble. 

It seems he has taken the boy over to the works 
to show him the new department. I’m sure it was 
very kind of him, and I don’t see what she is making 
such a fuss about,” said Julia. 

He probably took the short-cut. If we go back 
at once we shall find him at the works,” said Martha. 
^'"Please hurry, Hobin 1” 

“He won’t hurt Dave, Annette. He will bring 
him back again,” said Hobin, assuringly. “We are 
going over to the works ; we will tell him that he 
must carry Dave home at once.” 

‘‘‘You bring him home! I will trust my Dave 
with you,” said Annette. “ Get him away from that 
bad man ! Pie have the evil eye ! He will make my 
Dave remember what is great secret, what no one 
know but him, and then he will find it out ! He will 
cheat us, just as he try to cheat my poor father. It 
is not for nothing that your brother Ken have tell me 
to look out ! But how can I look out when, though 
I make great noise, no one will hear me ?” 

“ Goodness ! they can’t help hearing you !” said 


127 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN” 

Martha, impatiently. She started up the pony 
while Robin was still calling out to Annette cheer- 
ing assurances of Dave’s safet3\ 

“ What does she mean about a secret ?” said Julia, 
‘‘I’ve heard something about a discovery that old 
Freneau claimed to have made, but I didn’t suppose it 
amounted to anything. Papa never took any notice 
of it. I don’t suppose Carlsen had any motive ex- 
cept to be kind to the boy, although I must say that 
doesn’t seem exactly like him.” 

“ It’s perfectly ridiculous to suppose that that boy 
knows anything about glass -making that Carlsen 
doesn’t know,’’ said Martha. “All the secrets are 
known to the order, and they protect them re- 
ligiously.” 

“But Freneau didn’t belong to the order; they 
wouldn’t have him because he was a foreigner,” said 
Julia. “And that is why the men disliked him 
so, because he pretended to have a secret that he 
wouldn’t tell.” 

“This pony is so fat that he won’t go,” said 
Martha, using the whip quite smartly, to Rory’s 
evident surprise. “It’s all your fault, Ju; you 
give him so much sugar. Yes, I’m going to take 
the short-cut. I’ll be careful. I don’t want to 
get back to the 'works and find Carlsen gone 
again.” 

“ I’m not sure that papa would think that this was 
much better than going to the circus,” suggested 
Julia. 

“He won’t know; that’s the difference,” said 
Martha, promptly. She steered skilfully around the 
bogs and thank-you-rna’ams in the Honeypot road. 


128 


THE MATE OF THE MAKY ANN’^ 

and drove up to tlie glass-works while Carlsen’s horse 
and buggy were still in the yard. 

Let’s go in, just for a minute,” said Julia. It’s 
awfully hot, but it’s so pretty to see them blow the 
bottles and vases. I never cared about the window- 
glass.” 

Robin was anxious enough to go in. Here was 
another way in which she must protect Ken, and 
this was far less trying than the other, although she 
feared that Carlsen might gain more influence over 
Dave than she could possibly do. 

They saw Carlsen as soon as the door was opened 
for them into the furnace-room of the new depart- 
ment. Dave was standing beside him, gazing as if 
fascinated at a man who was gathering metal on his 
punty, thrust deep into the molten heart of the 
furnace. Carlsen came towards them at once with 
a flush of surprise on his face, and casting a curious 
glance at Robin. 

“I want you to do something for me, Carlsen. I 
want you to get Jo Wilkes clear, so that I needn’t go 
to court,” said Martha, imperatively. 

Oh ! that’s it, is it?” said Carlsen, his brow clear- 
ing into a smile. I’m afraid that’s impossible. But 
perhaps we can get him to plead guilty, and then 
you won’t have to go. I told his mother that was 
his best chance. She’s half crazy about it, and pretty 
troublesome.” 

How could she be silent, and let Jo Wilkes’s mother 
suffer like that ? If she were only a heroine, like 
Jeanie Deans, to tell the truth, whatever might come 
of it ! But she — she was weak-minded ; Ken had al- 
ways said so. She was ashamed of being the mate of 


PAVE WAS STILL STANPING BY THE FURNACE, WATCHING WITH FASCINATEP GAZE 



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129 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

the May^y Ann. Ah ! she had not realized, then, wliat 
things there were in the world to be ashamed of ! 

“ She pretends to be very indignant at having her 
son called a thief ; they always do. And he’s a 
pretty obstinate fellow ; but when he finds out that 
he’ll get ofi easier by owning up — ” 

There had been a queer fiuttering in Eobin’s ears ; 
the huge fiery eyes of the furnace danced before her 
own eyes, and came crowding about her. 

“Oh, get him clear — get him clear, can’t you?” 
she cried, as she caught at the iron bar of a bench 
near her to steady herself, the dancing, crowding eyes 
made her so dizzy. “He never will confess — he 
didn’t do it!” 


CHAPTER X 


“It was so dreadfully hot in there,” said Julia, 
when Robin, carried into the open air, had recov- 
ered, and declared, in a determined voice, that she 
“felt just as well as ever, and was ashamed of having 
made so much trouble.” 

“ I used to feel just like that every time I went 
into the furnace-room,” added Julia, sympathetically. 

“She’s so tender-hearted, too,” said Jean. “It 
worried her to hear how badly Jo Wilkes’s mother 
felt. Wasn’t that it, partly, Robin? What did you 
mean, Robin, by saying he didn’t do it ?” 

There was never to be any escape from Jean’s 
straightforward questionings. 

A bright color leaped into Robin’s pale cheeks. 
“ I — I don’t — it didn’t seem possible that he could be 
a common thief ; lie looks so honest,” she faltered, 
her eyes dropping under Carlsen’s shrewd, curious 
gaze. 

“/call that foolish,” said Martha. “ What does it 
matter to people like that if they are suspected? He 
can get a place somewhere. He 'would be let off 
easily if he would plead guilty, wouldn’t he ?” 

“ Yes, I think that can be managed, if he restores 
the watch,” said Carlsen. 

“ But I don’t care about the watch,” said Martha ; 
that is, compared to the horror of being perched up 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 131 

on a witness stand, a watcli is nothing at all. Get 
him off, anyway, won’t you, Carlsen ?” 

‘‘I can’t say I wonder much at Martha,” said 
Julia; ‘‘it must be horrid to go to court. But I 
shouldn’t care so much if I were you, Bobin. Of 
course if there was anything that one could do about 
it—” 

“ What could I do ? Of course it is of no use to 
think about it,” said Bobin, lightly. Carlsen was 
watching her narrowly. It terrified her to think 
how much she might have betrayed to his keen wits. 
“ I shall be sorry if Martha has to go to court, that’s 
all. Come, let us go back to the furnace -room. I 
want to see them make the pretty vases and bottles. 
Oh, you needn’t be afraid ! I sha’n’t be faint again. 
I have been in before, many a time, and it’s only 
just at first that I feel the heat. And — and Dave 
Freneau can go home with us, Mr. Carlsen ; we pass 
his house on our way home, and his sister is very 
anxious about him.” Bobin said this, summoning 
all her courage, as they followed Carlsen back into 
the furnace-room. 

“ What a little spitfire she is — that sister of his !” 
said Carlsen, good-humoredly, although a slight fiush 
that looked like anger had risen to his brow. “I 
pitied the boy. I used to know him when he w^as a 
little chap, and I thought it might amuse him to see 
the sort of glass- making that he was used to. His 
father was very skilful at fine work ; it was a pity 
that there was such a prejudice against him on ac- 
count of his being a foreigner; it made him bitter 
and hard to get along with. I suppose it was the 
same here. That girl seemed to think I wanted to 


132 THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN 

murder her brother. I had a curiosity to see wliether 
he would remember anything about the different 
processes, or whether he had lost his wits as entirely 
as people say.’^ 

“ I’m sure I think it was very good of you ; such 
people are always ungrateful,” said Martha. 

Dave was still standing by the furnace, watching 
with a fascinated gaze the workmen as they thrust 
their punties into the blazing depths to gather metal. 

“I wanted him to let me do it, and he wouldn’t,’^ 
he said, complainingly, to Carlsen. His brows were 
knitted, and he seemed too much absorbed to notice 
the rest of the party. He even looked at Kobin and 
Jean without seeming to see them. 

“Let him take itl” said Carlsen to the workman, 
who delivered the punty up to Dave, hesitatingly, 
and with a look of dismay. 

The boy, with his heavy, bewildered face, wandered 
off with the blazing ball of fire. Those who bustled 
unconcernedly about the men who bore similar bur- 
dens gave him a wide berth. The girls scattered 
with little cries, which Dave did not seem to hear. 
Carlsen kept close behind him, watching intently. 

Dave went over to one of the benches, but he 
waved aside an old man who would have taken the 
tube from him, and himself blew the glass into a 
globe, and sat down at the bench with it, the old 
man standing back at a sign from Carlsen, but with 
a comical look of indignation. “ Tlie order wouldn’t 
allow it,” he muttered. “He wa’n’t nothin’ but a 
tender ’fore he got to be a fool.” 

Carlsen paid no attention except by a flickering 
smile. 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 133 

Dave rolled the globe back and forth on the hori- 
zontal bar on each side of him, never lifting his eyes 
while the glass kept oddly changing its shape ; theixj 
was a half -smile on his face like tliat of a child de- 
lighted with his toy. He had made a hole in the 
globe, and enlarged it gradually, though without any 
apparent care, into a symmetrical opening. By this 
time the glass had cooled, so that there was nothing 
more to be done, Carlsen waved back a 3^oung man 
who was approaching, unseen by Dave. The boy 
looked up and around him in a little bewilderment; 
then he arose, selected out of all the hurrying throng, 
with their different burdens, the young man who had 
been coming to him, and took from his hand the long 
tube with a disk of red - hot glass upon it, which he 
instantly fastened to his cool globe. He sat down at 
the bench again, scratched the globe, and jarred it. 
The men were leaving their work, and allowing their 
fiery balls of glass to cool while they watched Dave, 
until Carlsen’s sharp voice aroused them to their duty. 
There were dissatisfied mutterings about the irregu- 
larity of the proceedings, mingled with exclamations 
of astonishment at the skill of the boy, whose sup- 
posed mental condition was speedily reported by those 
of the old hands who knew Dave. 

Off ran Dave to the glory hole ’’ with his globe, 
impatiently rejecting the help of the man whose busi- 
ness it was to do this part of the work, and quickly 
heated the broken end into softness ; then back again 
to the bench, and began to manipulate the globe anew. 
A minute or two, and there was a perfect lamp-shade 
under Dave’s swift hands. A stroke detached it 
from the iron rod, and dropped it into a bed of sand. 


134 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘MARY ANN ’’ 

Dave allowed the small boy, who came running up, 
to carry it off to the annealing furnace. He looked 
up pale, and as if just awakened, and wdped his wet 
face with his handkerchief. 

“You did that pretty well, old fellow said Carl- 
sen, cordially. And there was a murmur of applause, 
amid the grumbling of the men, at which Dave 
flushed with pride. 

“ He must have done it all consid’able many times,” 
said the old man whose place at the bench Dave had 
seized. “’Tain’t allowed, though — a youngster like 
him. AVhere’d you do it, sonny ?” 

Dave’s face clouded. “ I don’t know,” he said, in 
a puzzled tone. 

“ He wa’n’t anything but a tender in the window- 
glass house,” remarked a boy, in an injured tone. 

“ I don’t know whether I ever did it before,” said 
Dave, knitting his brows painfully. “ But I’ve seen 
it — oh, all the time, somewhere.” 

“ ’Twas pretty well done for a boy who has no 
memory,” said Carlsen, in a tone of triumph. 

“ I can’t see how he could do it, when he hardly 
seems to know any one,” said Jean. 

“Memory is a curious thing, and injuries to the 
brain produce very queer results,” said Carlsen. 
“I’ve been reading about them lately.” He looked 
suddenly at Robin, whose gaze was flxed intently 
upon him. “My bump of curiosity is very large, 
and I — I came near studying medicine once,” he add- 
ed, by way of explanation. 

“ He wants to find out, like Thanny Baker,” said 
Jean, in an aside. 

“ What the boy has lost is his memory of events,” 


135 


THE MATE OF THE “mAEY ANN” 

continued Carlsen. ‘‘Whatever lie has been in the 
habit of doing he can do still. He could do his 
work just as well as before.” 

“ But the doctor said he mustn’t,” said Hobin. 
“ His brain must have rest.” 

“ I dare say he is right, though I doubt if his mem- 
ory ever returns,” said Carlsen, carelessly, as if it 
were, after all, a matter of very little consequence. 

“ Of course it will, when he can remember so 
much,” said Jean, with a kind of indignation. “Any- 
way, it must be rather good fun to begin all over 
again. I should like to be just getting acquainted 
with Robin and the twins and Traddles and Ken. 
How queer it would be not to know that Ken must 
be smoothed the right way when he has anything 
new on, and that Robin likes to make butter-scotch 
when the wind is east.” 

Carlsen led the way into another room, where 
there were samples of colored glass upon a long 
bench. Dave took up a dainty vase, amber at the 
bottom and ruby at the mouth, and examined it cu- 
riously. 

“Did you ever make anything like that?” asked 
Carlsen, easily. 

Dave shook his head after a moment’s troubled 
reflection. “ I don’t know how,” he said. “ I think 
I dreamed something once about colors like that, but 
it won’t come back when I’m awake. Do you know 
how to do it ?” He looked wdstfully up at Carlsen. 

“ I ? Oh yes, it’s very simple. I’ll show you some 
time,” said Carlsen. 

“I don’t know how they make it — make it — 
those colors,” said Dave, with eager interest. 


136 THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

‘‘There are many different things used to give 
color to glass,” said Carlsen, observing him intently. 
“ It is gold that gives that amber color.” 

“Amber color — gold! That’s it! I knew!” ex- 
claimed Dave, his face lighting up. “ I knew^ but I 
can’t remember names.” 

“ The doctor said he might come to remember by 
associating ideas — wasn’t that it, Robin? — or his mem- 
ory might come back all at once,” said Jean. 

“ He looks tired now,” said Carlsen, quickly cut- 
ting short this recalling of the doctor’s prophecies. 
“I will drive him home, or if you would prefer to 
have him go with you — ” He said this politely to 
Robin, but with a little quizzical smile, which made 
Robin feel very small and childish and unwarrantably 
suspicious. 

The Hallett girls insisted that Robin and Jean 
should go home with them to meet the Rawlins girls 
and Duke, who were coming to tea ; but Robin re- 
sisted all their entreaties, and, what was still more 
difficult, the little pleading tug which Jean privately 
gave her dress skirt. Jean dearly loved a good time, 
and there was no weight on her spirits which could 
not be lightly shaken off. Robin was too single- 
hearted to be able to make merry while all this trouble 
about Ken was weighing upon her. By promising 
“solemnly” to go to their tennis-party the next week 
she finally pacified the girls, and this prospect caused 
Jean’s brow to clear also. 

It was settled that the Hallett girls should drive 
them as far as the Freneau cottage, and Robin and 
Jean should walk the rest of the way home, while the 
girls returned to meet their guests. Carlsen came 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 


137 


out after them to tell them of the mosaic glass win- 
dows that were to be made, and to ask them to come 
some day and see the process. 

I want to come — I want to see !” cried Dave, 
eagerly. 

‘‘ Oh yes, come any time, when I’m not too busy 
to look after you, unless your — your friends are 
afraid that it will tire you too much,” said Carlsen ; 
and again that little quizzical smile brought the color 
to Robin’s cheeks. 

Martha jumped out of the phaeton and ran back 
to beg Carlsen again to do all that he could to “ get 
Jo Wilkes off.” 

He seems very good-natured. I’m sure he only 
wanted to amuse Dave ; what else could he want ?” 
said Julia. 

“ I go there again,” said Dave, who was tucked 
into the front of the phaeton, amiably curling his 
long legs up out of the way. “ I liked it. And I — 
I want to think and think.” 

Annette rushed out like a whirlwind, and almost 
dragged Dave from the carriage. 

“ You have rescued him from that bad man !” she 
cried, fervently embracing Robin. ‘‘ And lie shall 
not get him again — never, never ! We wdll run away 
first — my Dave and I.” 

I shall not run away,” said Dave, stoutly. ‘‘ I go 
over there again soon, to-morrow, where they make 
glass. I make it myself, amber and ruby.” He pro- 
nounced the words slowly and with difficulty, and 
evidently felt great pride that he could remember 
them. 

“ You see what that wicked man have done ! He 


138 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAEY ANN ” 

have my Dave be — bewitch !” (Some English words 
came very hard to Annette, and this happened to be 
one of them.) She burst into a passion of tears, 
which caused Dave’s brows to contract in wondering 
annoyance. 

Do stop making such a fuss !” cried Martha Hal- 
lett, irritably. ‘‘ITo one wdll hurt you or your brother 
if you behave yourselves.” 

“ Great things you do know about it — you who are 
of those who have try to ruin us!” cried Annette, 
stamping her foot on her door-stone. Oli, I wish 
that the son of the minister had not gone ! He would 
make all right.” 

“ Poor Ken 1 I’m afraid he couldn’t,” said Kobin, 
with a long sigh, as the phaeton drove away, the 
Hallett girls sending back a chorus of reminders 
about the tennis-party. 

“ It isn’t so long ago that she was saying she wished 
Dave would keep away from Ken,” said Jean, as they 
walked on homeward, after giving Annette all the 
consoling assurances of Dave’s safety that they could. 

I’m afraid it doesn’t make much difference what 
Annette says,” Kobin answered, and yet she felt, il- 
logically enough, a certain sense of comfort that any 
one, even Annette, trusted Ken. 

Slie would trust him, too ! It was all a mistake ; 
it was a dreadful nightmare from which she would 
wake soon. And then, with a sudden revulsion of 
feeling, she stood still in the road ; she would go 
back and proclaim that it was Ken and not Jo 
Wilkes who had stolen the w^atch. She could not 
bear such a burden of guilt, and share in bringing 
such suffering upon others. 


139 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘mARY ANn” 

wish I had stuck to what I said when I was 
faint. I wish I hadn’t taken it back,” she murmured, 
half-aloud, finding that her resolution failed her 
utterly when she tried to go back. It was not for 
Ken’s sake, not for her own sake, that she faltered, 
she said to herself, but her father’s suffering face 
would come between her and the righteous con- 
fession. “If I could only tell some one! I never 
was strong enough to bear things alone,” thought 
poor Kobin. What would Jean say — honest, single- 
hearted little Jean, who had had her own con- 
science troubles about the clove lozenges? But 
one could not bear to distress her ; come what might, 
she would not tell Jean, Eobin resolved. And if 
mamma were well, were like other mothers ; she 
was not strong, and Ken was her favorite ; this very 
day she had called him “ the best one.” As for her 
father, the shock would kill him. ISTo, there was no 
one to tell, no one. One could say one’s prayers, of 
course. “But that help is so far off,” said Eobin 
to herself. Ah! nearer, Eobin, than you think — 
nearer than any of us think! 

As for Jean, her mind was dwelling upon sashes. 
Dear to Jean’s heart was a sash, a good wide one, and 
of a bright color, which would enhance the charms 
of her new white dress. “ Kitty Eawlins has a tennis 
suit that came from Paris ; only think of it !” This 
was the first of many pathetic remarks of Jean’s 
upon the subject of dress which reached Eobin’s 
consciousness. “Don’t you think I might have the 
sash, Eobin ? Mr. Sears is selling out the ribbon in 
his store. He only keeps it in the summer, and he 
isn’t going to keep it any more, because the sum- 


140 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN” 

mer people don’t buy it, and there’s a beautiful blue 
— so wide!” 

‘‘Perhaps I can squeeze it out of the house-keep- 
ing money. I’m afraid, but I’ll try.” 

“You ought to have a new dress, Pobin.” 

“ Oh, I shall do well enough,” said Pobin, liastily. 

“ You don’t care for anything, now Ken has gone. 
I think it’s queer, when he wanted to go — catch Ken 
going if he didn’t! — and I’m sure he hasn’t been 
so very pleasant lately. Or is it Jo Wilkes that 
makes you feel so ? I’m sure one can’t worry about 
all the thieves in the world or their mothers. If 
you’re relation to a thief, you must expect to have 
trouble,” added unconscious Jean. “As for Dave 
Freneau, I think he is getting well.” 

Their mother met them at the door, her eyes 
swollen with tears. “ I won’t say that it is heartless, 
Pobin, for you to go about having a good time when 
your poor brother has gone, w'e don’t know where, 
but I wonder how you could. Oh, my poor boy, no 
one cares for him but me !” 

Pobin kissed her silently ; even at fifteen one has 
learned sometimes that words are useless where the 
ear is not fitted to hear ; and she comforted her by 
reading the fashions and accounts of the gay doings 
at Newport. 

Her father wished to see her afterwards in his 
study. He looked paler and more ill than for a long 
time. He began at once to talk of Ken ; it was of 
Ken that his mind was full also. 

“Nothing has cut more keenly than that I had no 
money to give him, Pobin,” he said. “ He had 
managed to get some somewhere, and begged me not 


141 


THE MATE OF THE ‘^MARY ANN ’’ 

to worry, dear boy ! I suppose he got it by fishing 
or taking people out sailing in his boat. Well, well; 
perhaps it was better for him to go !” 

“There will be money coming from cranberries 
before long, papa.” Practical comfort was all that 
she could trust herself to offer, with the great lump 
in her throat that would not down, 

“ If you can keep the meadow ! — I hope you can 
keep it.” Then followed some talk of stocks that 
had deteriorated in value, and dividends that .were 
long delayed. “But it takes so little to keep our 
heads above water, and you and Moira manage so 
excellently that we shall do it still !” he said cheer- 
fully, at length, although Eobin’s ke^n ears detected 
that the cheerfulness was forced. “ But it cuts me to 
the heart that I should have to let Ken go out into 
the world penniless ! Do you know how much money 
lie had, and where he got it, Eobin ?” 

It was from her father that Jean had inherited her 
embarrassing straightforwardness of speech, and they 
both looked one directly in the face. 

“ I — I — he didn’t tell me,” papa.” 

“Well, well, you’re not to blame, child. I mustn’t 
distress you about it,” said her father, misinterpret- 
ing her confusion. “ Look out for your cranberries, 
Eobin ! We’re going to have rain ; that will be 
good for them. You mustn’t let the frost catch 
them.” 

It rained persistently for nearly a week. Eain 
might be good for cranberries, but it hindered one 
from hearing the Sandford news, and discovering 
whether Jo Wilkes was to be tried for theft. 

In spite of everything, Eobin and Moira put their 


142 


THE MATE OF THE MAllY ANN ” 

heads together and managed the sash for Jean, and 
Robin and Jean went to Quansett and bought it, the 
first bright day — a delicious day, full of breeze and 
sparkle and perfume ; and they had left their father 
sitting out upon the piazza — a marvel for him, with 
the children playing around. 

It was Prim who came to meet them as they came 
home — Prim in an excited and exuberant state of 
mind, an extraordinary thing for Prim, who was 
usually sedate and seriously explanatory. 

‘‘Ro one got sticky, Wobin,” she said, “but a 
stwange thing happened. We were putting our hair 
into curl-papers’’ — in fact. Prim’s head was now 
bristling all over with little sharp paper tails ; “ I 
told them it was proper to do our hair up-stairs, but 
Twaddles would stay where papa was, and we found 
a piece of newspaper in the study, and there wasn’t 
enough to go wound, and Twaddles was on the settle, 
and she felt something like paper, and she poked her 
fingers into a wip in the leather and pulled out — 
this.” Prim unclosed her small clinched fist and 
showed a ball of crumpled paper. “ Oh, Wobin, I 
think it’s the paper the monkey carried off that Ken 
felt so badly about the day the French boy that got 
hurt carne home. Twaddles wasn’t going to give it 
to me. Twaddles has so much old Adam, at times !” 
Prim sighed heavily. 


CHAPTER XI 


Kobin spread the paper out upon the broad win- 
dow-seat in the hall, and tried to decipher it. There 
were but very few words which were legible to her. 
Her first impulse was to send it at once to Ken — the 
precious paper which he had been so angry with her 
for losing ! But on second thought she decided to try 
the effect of the paper upon Dave’s memory. The 
almost illegible words might mean something to him ; 
they might even bring back the forgotten secret to 
his mind. What joy it would be if she should have 
that news to write to Ken ! But her heart sank at 
the thought of Ken, as it always sank now. She had 
tried to write to him ; she had hinted, as carefully as 
she could, that she might not make him angry, at the 
baseness of allowing an innocent person to suffer for 
one’s guilt ; she had said plainly that no poverty or 
disgrace was real trouble, but only wickedness ; tliat 
so far as paying went, she could pay for everything 
with her cranberries — those cranberries scarcely larger 
as yet than pin-heads, and at the mercy of droughts 
and fioods and frosts — from which so much was ex- 
pected ! All these things she had written to Ken 
over and over, and then burned the letters. It was 
so hard to write such things to Ken, who never took 
kindly to advice, and was morbidly sensitive to blame, 
lie had written once, a hasty note addressed to his 


144 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN” 

father, which tried to he high spirited, but showed 
homesickness between the lines. At least the others 
called it homesickness ; llobin saw the misery of an 
accusing conscience. 

If Dave should remember, then she could write. 
Perhaps Ken could be induced to confess then, for it 
would be comparatively easy ; he would be looking 
forward again to the great fortune to be made by 
Freneau’s discovery. 

She stole away as soon as possible — it was scarcely 
sunset, and there was the long summer twilight be- 
fore her — with the crumpled paper in her pocket, 
down the marsh road to Dave’s. Jean would feel 
aggrieved if she should discover that there was a se- 
cret with which she was not to be trusted ; but it 
was not her secret, but Ken’s and Dave’s, Pobin had 
reflected ; and, moreover, whatever found a lodge- 
ment in Jean’s lively little brain was so apt to fly to 
the end of her tongue. 

Dave was sitting on the door-step in a brown-study. 

“ He will not speak to me,” said Annette, in sullen 
grief. He will only say he want to think. He 
think himself to sleep, and wake up and think again. 
It was less sad when he drew the little cart.” 

Pobin spread the paper out before him, but he knit 
his brows over it without any apparent result. 

‘^He can read wwiting. Old Mrs. Morse said she 
did not believe it, but he can,” said Annette. 

“These are uncommon words,” explained Pobin. 
“Dave, what is that? — oxide of what?” 

A flush slowly overspread Dave’s pale face. “ I 
know ! I know ! If anybody should say it I should 
remember. He wanted me to remember, that man 



“robin spkkad the paper out upon the broad window-seat 


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■ * < * 



THE MATE OF THE MAKY ANN 


145 


at the glass-works, but I couldn’t. I don’t know just 
what you w^ant me to do, you and he,” said Dave, 
with his slow, difficult utterance. 

It is that always — to find out the secret. Oh, I 
am glad he cannot remember, my poor Dave ! He 
would tell it to that man,” said Annette. 

‘‘I wouldn’t tell it to him, Dave,” said Robin, 
earnestly. “If you remember anything that you 
used to know, I wouldn’t tell him.” 

“ It is he who tells me,” said Dave ; “ he knows 
everything; he will make me remember when I go 
over there again. You cannot help me; you have 
never know much — girls !” 

There was a scornful imj^atience in Dave’s tone, 
which was different from the apathy which he had 
shown since his injury. 

“ It is that man who have the evil-eye !” cried An- 
nette, becoming tearful. “ Dave have never speak to 
me like tliat before.” 

“I think I have tired him with the paper, Annette. 
The doctor said we must not tire him, you know. 
It’s of no use ; he never will remember,” she added to 
herself. But she reflected afterwards that she was 
scarcely able to judge of Dave’s condition and its 
probable results. She would send the paper to Ken. 
And yet of what use would it be for him to know ? 
He would not come home ; oh no, he could not come 
home! He would only be troubled to no purpose. 
“ I’m guilty of such great and dreadful shirking that 
a little shirking like that doesn’t signify!” said 
Robin, bitterly, to herself, as she walked, with a 
heavy heart, through the deepening shadows of the 

marsh road. 

10 


146 THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

She had tried to inquire about Jo Wilkes in Quan- 
sett that day, but she was afraid of betraying her 
anxiety, afraid of the sound of her voice when she 
mentioned his name or Ken’s ; and innocent Jean, 
whose mind was centred upon sashes, could not be in- 
duced, by means of hints, to ask the questions. Eobin 
had strong doubts of Martha’s ability to get him off. 
Carlsen had evaded her entreaties, she thought. Had 
his keen eyes looked suspiciously at her after she 
had cried out that Jo was innocent, or had she im- 
agined it? At all events, she could not rid herself 
of the impression that Carlsen ^vould bring Jo Wilkes 
to trial, in spite of Martha, if he could, and get her 
there as a witness also, if he could find any pretext. 

With only such thoughts as these for company, it 
was a relief to see a small, sturdy, barefooted figure 
approaching in the distance — Thanny Baker coming 
to meet her. 

Thanny had been in a somewhat subdued state of 
mind since the show. He had made the acquaintance 
of Bert Cressy, of Goose Creek, who took the obscure 
but lively part of the lion’s hind -legs, and the story 
of his experiences had dampened his growing ambi- 
tion for a show-man’s life. According to Bert Cressy 
“stiddy days’ works” was what life amounted to, 
even in a show, and very cramping and monotonous 
work, too — and work that paid scarcely as well as 
fishing. Thanny, with all his visions, was enough of 
a Yankee to wish to know how it paid. And that 
zebra was undoubtedly painted, though Thanny hadn’t 
found out what the creature really was, or how it was 
done. He had come to a realizing sense of the hol- 
lowness of shows. He doubted whether there was 


147 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

anything much more enjoyable in life than to have 
the Mary Anr^s sheet in one’s hand, in a spanking 
breeze, and know just how to control her, as one 
would control a restive horse. 

A Cape feller is jest about as well off as any of 
’em,” he said to himself, foregoing, for a time at 
least, his dreams of being a show-man, a cowboy, or 
a soldier. 

‘‘I’ve been lookin’ and lookin’ for you,” he an- 
nounced, as soon as Robin came in sight. “I took 
that feller up to Goose Creek, and he paid me a 
dollar. And then — and then ” — Thanny lowered his 
voice mysteriously as he joined her — “ I come near 
gettin’ into an orfle scrape.” 

“ Oh dear !” exclaimed Robin, who felt that trou- 
bles were thickening on every side. “ But you didn’t, 
Thanny ?” 

“ I guess I was smart enough for them fellers,” 
said Thanny, proudly. “You see, I was cornin’ by 
Gridiron Cove on my way home, and ’twas high tide, 
and I was pretty well inshore, and a feller sung out 
to me to come up nearer. I went in as nigh as I 
could, and says he, ‘I want to hire your boat to-night 
after sundown ; I expect the wind’s a-goin’ to hold,’ 
says he. ‘ I only want to go out there a little piece,’ 
says he, pointin’ out beyond the Chunks, ‘and I’ll 
pay you well.’ Says I, ‘ I don’ know who you be,’ 
for he wasn’t summer folks ; he looked kind of rough, 
and he didn’t b’long ’round here. He didn’t say any- 
thing to that, but it flashed right across me that it 
was one of them fellers from the glass-works that 
made the disturbance that day at the show.” 

“ Then they got clear, did they ? Thanny, do you 


148 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANn” 

know whetlier Jo Wilkes is — is going to be tried for 
stealing?” asked Eobin, eagerly. 

“Well, I’m a-comin’ to him,” said Tlianny, slight- 
ly aggrieved at the interruption. “He pretended 
not to hear me askin’ him who he was, but says he 
again, ‘I’ll pay you well. You leave your boat 
here at the Cove jest as soon as it’s dark to-night, 
and say nothing to nobody, and you’ll find it here 
again before nine o’clock ; and name your price,’ 
says he. ‘ But, mind you, hold your tongue,’ says 
he. Well, I couldn’t think, for the life of me, what 
he was up to, and I kept still. ‘ Five dollars !’ he 
hollers, and ‘All right,’ says I, for I couldn’t seem 
to think of anything out of the way that he could be 
up to. But I hadn’t got far before it come over me 
jest like a flash that Bert said this afternoon that that 
vessel that was anchored in the shoal water out there 
beyond the Chunks was Hank Colson’s schooner, the 
Wasp. He said she’d started from Fleetwell for the 
Banks, and he couldn’t make out what she was a-layin’ 
to out there for. He went clear out there to make sure 
’twas the Wasp., she was actin’ so sing’lar. You see. 
Hank Colson used to work over to Sandford, and he 
and Jo Wilkes was great friends; they both belonged 
down to Fleetwell. Thinkin’ of that put me in mind 
of what I heard a feller say down on the Quansett 
wharf yesterday. ‘That rickety old jail,’ says he. 
It’s jest as plain as daylight.” Thanny’s chubby 
freckled face was pale, and his eyes fairly dilated 
with excitement. “ They’re goin’ to get Jo Wilkes 
out of jail and carry him over to Hank Colson’s ves- 
sel to-night. They couldn’t get a boat down to 
Quansett; they’d get catched in no time; so they 


149 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ’’ 

thought I was a small feller and you was a girl, and 
we wouldn’t know any better than to let ’em have 
the Mary Ann.’’^ 

Oh, Thanny, why didn’t — Oh, what shall I do ?” 
cried Kobin, trembling all over with excitement. If 
Jo Wilkes, innocent Jo Wilkes, could only get off 
like that ! 

‘‘You needn’t feel so bad,” said Thanny. “Of 
course we haven’t got to do it. We should get took 
up fast enough if we did. As soon as I thought 
what it all meant, I hollered back to him that the 
Mary Ann wasn’t any such a boat as that. She 
wa’n’t in the business of helpin’ tliieves to escape. 
I can’t say that he heard me. I was a good ways off. 
But if them fellers do get took in waitin’ there for 
the Mary Ann, ’twill serve ’em right. I expect 
he’d been skulkin’ round among them sand-hills and 
scrub trees at Gridiron Cove a consid’able spell wait- 
in’ for me. I saw him on the wharf at Quansett 
wlien I went down along with my passenger, but he 
didn’t darst to ask me for the boat down there before 
folks. Kind of a joke to ask for our boat to get Jo 
Wilkes off in, when Jwas our friends, those Hallett 
girls, that the watch was stole from, wasn’t it ?” add- 
ed Thanny, with loyal pride. 

“ I suppose they can get a boat — don’t you, Than- 
ny asked Kobin, eagerly, her mind filled with con- 
fusing doubts and fears, which she must conceal from 
Thanny. 

“ Boats enough, but folks would be so apt to sus- 
pect ’em that they don’t darst to ask, don’t you see ?” 
said Thanny. “ He ain’t so very well known down 
to Quansett, and if he tries to hire a row-boat the 


150 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

feller that owns it is likely to say, I’ll row you any- 
where that you want to go. Bein’ night-time, you 
know, would kind of make ’em wonder where he was 
goin’. And then it’s likely to get ’round that Hank 
Colson’s schooner is layin’ to out there. That ’ll tell 
folks the story if they’re anyway sharp,” said Than- 
ny, with a pardonable consciousness of his own gifts 
in that direction. 

“ Then — then you think they won’t be able to get 
a boat ?” stammered E-obin. 

“ I don’t b’lieve there’s a mite of danger. There’s 
old Solomon Gross, they won’t catch him nappin’, and 
Lije Briggs is orfle partickeler about his boats, and 
’twas Steve Prettygo that was talkin’ about the Sand- 
ford jail bein’ a rickety old thing, so he’d be apt to 
be on his guard. But still Pve been thinkin’ that 
mebbe I ought to go down and warn ’em, or over to 
Sandford, because perhaps he hasn’t broke out of jail 
yet.” Thanny paused irresolutely in the road. 

‘‘ I wouldn’t go, Thanny !” said Kobin, hastily. 

He must have got out by this time, if — if they 
wanted the boat as soon as it was dark. Why, Than- 
ny, it’s almost dark now ! They’ll be waiting.” There 
was intense anxiety in Pobin’s tone. 

Thanny chuckled a little. 

They’ll have to wait for the Mary Ann^ I guess ! 
But I’ll tell you what, I ought to have set an officer 
after ’em ! I didn’t seem to think of anything ex- 
cept that ’twas lucky I was too smart to get caught 
that way; why, they’d put you in jail for lettin’ a 
boat to a thief to get away in !” 

‘‘ But you’re not sure, Thanny ; and if you had 
sent an officer there, and then found it was a mistake, 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN 


151 


how you would have been laughed at !” said Eobin. 
She knew the weak joint in Thanny’s armor; he 
conld bear anything better than to be laughed at. 

But — but come to think of it ” — Eobin’s breath 
came hard in her eagerness — would go over to 
Sandford, and see whether Jo Wilkes has escaped. 
It’s growing dark, but you wouldn’t be afraid.” 

“Afraid! Well, I rather guess not!” laughed 
Thanny. “ And if he has got out, why, I can tell 
’em jest where to find him ! Instead of the Mary 
Ann that they’re waitin’ for, them fellers will find 
the sheriff after ’em !” 

Off started Thanny on the run. Ordinarily he 
would have whistled to keep up his courage in that 
dark road, but now he was too eager to think of fear. 

Eobin called after him : “ Thanny, I wouldn’t— 
wouldn’t tell ! Perhaps he didn’t do it.” 

But Thanny didn’t hear. And, after all, what 
could she say ? If she told him that she knew Jo 
Wilkes to be innocent, would he not wonder and 
wonder, and perhaps suspect the truth? Thanny, 
wlio was sometimes so “ sharp !” 

If Jo Wilkes could only get a boat — could get 
away! It was a sudden resolve which had led her to 
try to get rid of Thanny. Perhaps it was too late, 
but she would try. If it could be done, she would 
do it ! 

She could not go alone ; Moira must go with her. 
That would involve delay; Moira was so dull and 
slow, but there was no one else whom she could trust. 

If Thanny had only not been so “sharp !” It was 
not the thing for a girl to do, and the night was so 
dark. But to save Ken! Would she not do more 


152 THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

than this to save Ken? Jo Wilkes could go away 
and live down the disgrace; she could pay for the 
watch — that could be managed in some way — and 
Ken — Ken would see how weak and wicked he had 
been, and truly “repent him of the evil,” and per- 
haps some time, in some way, they could make 
amends to Jo Wilkes. 

All this time her feet were swifter than her 
thoughts. Stealing softly up to the back door she 
found Moira sitting on the steps, enjoying the even- 
ing coolness after her day’s labor. 

“ Come with me, quick, Moira ! You can’t wait, 
not even for your shoes !” 

“Small loss,” muttered Moira, as Kobin cast a dis- 
mayed glance at her feet. 

There were very good things about Moira; she 
grumbled vaguely as she scrambled down the bluffs 
after Kobin, but she asked no questions. Moira was 
a devoted soul ; she would follow Kobin anywhere, 
especially with the privilege of going barefooted. 

“ The saints presarve us, is it intil the bit boat 
we’re go’n’. Miss Kobin dear?” said poor Moira, as 
they reached the slip where the Mai'y Ann rocked 
lightly on the water. 

The wind had scarcely “ held there was only a 
light breeze now, and a placid sky was ap^^earing 
through the windy clouds. 

“ Sure we’ll be throwned entirely. Miss Kobin, and 
for the loikes iv me ’tis no matther.” 

“ Get in, Moira ! I won’t let you drown, and there’ll 
be a moon ; it will be quite light soon,” said Kobin, 
reassuringly. “I’m only going as far as Gridiron 
Cove, and the wind will be in our favor.” 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN 


153 


Sure, Miss Robin darlint, the wind that ’ll blow 
ye down convaynient is niver the wind that ’ll blow 
ye back again !” said Moira, with a sigh, stepping 
obediently into the boat nevertheless. 

To get back again ! Robin had scarcely thought 
of that, and she dismissed the thought now; to get 
to Gridiron Cove in time was all her care. Never 
before had she felt such satisfaction in her skill in 
managing a boat. The Mary Ann’s sail swelled to 
the breeze, and her bow cut the water with a little 
swish, and the bluffs slipped away from them, and the 
Chunks, low-lying rocks that looked in the semi-dark- 
ness like great sea-monsters, loomed nearer. A great 
red moon climbed up out of the sea, and in the 
moonlight’s track across the water Robin could catch 
the dim outline of the vessel which, according to 
Thanny’s view, was intended to carry Jo Wilkes to 
freedom. 

Was any little boat already flitting across to it 
from the shore?’ Robin strained her eyes in vain 
for any glimpse of one. 

Was Gridiron Cove ever so far away before ? And 
surely the breeze was dying out. By this time 
Thanny might have sent an officer in search of poor 
innocent Jo Wilkes skulking behind the sand-hills. 

The Cove was a deep inlet, with two or three long 
and regular sand-bars at its mouth which had given 
it its name. 

‘‘Sure ye’ll not be afther puttin’ in at this dark 
place. Miss Robin, darlint !” wailed Moira. “ If we 
gets aground what ’ll we do at all, at all? An’ it’s 
mesilf heard a quare n’ise behint the threes !” 


CHAPTER XII 


There was a queer noise, but it might have been 
only the wind ; it ceased as they drew near, and a 
shape whicli Robin had taken for a man proved to 
be only a shadow. She would not retreat now, and 
Moira must be encouraged, although her own heart 
was thumping. She wished she had taken Thanny 
into her confidence and sent him with the boat ; 
and yet how could she have brought herself to be- 
tray Ken? Ko half explanations would have done 
for ‘‘sharp’’ Thanny! But it was too late now for 
retreat or regrets. 

“We must land here, Moira,” she said. “AYe 
can’t push up any farther into the sand. You won’t 
mind that it is wet with your bare feet.” 

Moira predicted wild-cats and assassins, and called 
fervently upon the saints. 

“ The road is such a little ways, Moira, and we can 
run,” said Robin, cheerfully. 

“ Run, is it ? If iver I has the use of me two legs 
on thry land!” said Moira, heartily. “An’ is it lave 
the boat w^e will, Miss Robin ? Sure, whin the tide 
do be high ag’in — ” 

“ I’m leaving it for some one, Moira ; it will be 
used and returned, I — I expect.” 

After all, might it not be a fool’s - errand upon 
which she had come? Would the man have trusted 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 


155 


to Thanny ? It might even be possible that Thanny’s 
theory of the intended rescue of Jo Wilkes was all a 
mistake. 

“An’ why wouldn’t they come afther it be day- 
light, like honust Christians?” asked Moira, indig- 
nantly. “ Sure it do be blood-cruddlin’ work for a 
bit thing loike ye. But for me knowin’ the great 
sinse ye have — ” 

“ Oil, I haven’t a bit of sense, Moira ; not a bit !” 
cried Bobin, although always under her breath, for 
the very trees seemed to have ears. “ But I Iiad to 
do this. I had to, Moira !” 

They had dragged the boat up as far as they could 
upon the sand by this time, and Moira made good 
her intention of using her legs. Moira could run, 
although no one would have believed it possible. 
She dragged Eobin along with her until the lat- 
ter halted resolutely as they came in sight of the 
road. 

“Moira, there can’t be any danger now; we’ve 
come over this road so many times in the evening. 
Wait a minute! Look there through the open 
space.” The moonlight silvered a small sail drifting 
out of Gridiron Cove. “ Tliey’re off already 1” Eohin 
drew a long, long, half-sobbing breath. “ I’m glad I 
came, Moira. I’m glad I came 1 You would be glad 
if you knew. Oh, Moira, it was to save Ken. It 
was so I need never tell of something that he did — 
something awfully wrong, Moira. Oh, poor Ken ! 
and it isn’t right — it never will be right; but I had 
to save Ken, and now no one will suffer — much.” 
Eobin added the last word with a sudden recollection 
of Jo Wilkes’s mother. 


156 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

‘‘Is it Masthei* Kin?” said Moira, bewildered. 
“ Sure, an’ I thought him far away !” 

“ I don’t mean that he is in the boat. I can’t tell 
even you, Moira; but Ken did something awful — 
something wicked.” 

“Sure it’s dramin’ ye are. Miss Kobin dear! 
He niver done anythin’ wdcked — niver in the livin’ 
worruld ! Masther Kin, indade ! lie do be a b’y, 
wdd the thryin’ w^ays iv a b’y ; but don’t I know the 
good hairt in him ? Is it wicked, ye says ? Miss 
Kobin dear, some rashkills is desavin’ ye !” Moira’s 
deep rough voice was tremulous with feeling. 

It w^as with Moiya as wdth her father and mother, 
thought Kobin. Ken was “ the best one.” She was 
far from resenting this, as Jean did. She loved Ken 
too dearly for that. If one could only believe dear 
stupid old Moira ; but when one 'knew I 

“Anyway, it’s right now — no, not right — oh, 
Moira, I wdsh I were a heroine I There was a girl 
once wdio wouldn’t tell a lie, or even act one, to save 
her sister’s life; wasn’t that sj)lendid? But I am 
weak and wicked — ” 

“An’ it’s yersilf now that’s wicked! Sure I niver 
heard the loike iv such a wicked family !” said Moira, 
who, trudging along the highway, with the moon 
serenely bearing them company, had forgotten her 
fears sufficiently to be jocular. “ What iver has got 
intil your bit head. Miss Kobin darlint? Sure if 
thim rashkills don’t bring back the boat — Masther 
Kin’s boat — The saints be good til us ! what’s 
that?” 

“It’s only a carriage, Moira; it’s nothing to be 
afraid of.” Kobin had scarcely been able to suppress 


THE MOONLIGHT SILVERED A SMALL SAIL DRIFTING OUT OF GRIDIRON COTE. 












157 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

a scream at the sudden sound, but her quicker wits 
told her at once what it was. 

A man in the carriage which wa^ coming towards 
them leaned out to look curiously at them. Robin 
shrank back with a half-uttered cry at sight of 
Carlsen. 

“ Miss — Miss Dinsmore !” He stopped his horse 
at once. “You must allow me to carry you home.” 

“ Sure I’m here to take care of her, son*, an’ we’ll 
go our lane !” said Moira, with dignity. 

“ But it’s a long walk from Quansett, and a lonely 
road,” insisted Carlsen; “and I am sure Miss Dins- 
more’s father — ” 

“ We’re quite used to the road, and not at all afraid, 
thank you,” said Robin, with decision, drawing Moira 
along. 

“I wish I had let him carry us home, Moira; it 
would have delayed him !” exclaimed Robin, as the 
sound of wheels died away on the sandy road. “ Did 
you see the other man, Moira ? I think it was the 
sheriff, and they are going to Gridiron Cove.” 

“Joy go wid ’em! I’d rather thim than me was 
goin’ to Gridiron Cove the night !” said Moira, gayly. 

“ He wanted to find out whether we were coming 
from Quansett, Moira. I don’t like that man,” said 
Robin, earnestly. 

“Sure oursilves needn’t loike nor disloike the 
loikes iv him,” said Moira, with a grand air. “ But 
if thim rashkills don’t be afther bringin’ back Masther 
Kin’s boat — ” 

“ They will, Moira, never fear.” 

“ It’s a quare night’s woruk ; and though ye have 
great sinse — ” 


158 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ’’ 

Trust me, then, Moira, and believe that the boat 
will be safe,” said Kobin, thinking it unwise again to 
disclaim the possession of that valuable quality “ great 
sinse.” 

‘‘ Niver belave the ould rashkills that tellt ye 
Masther Kin was bad ; niver belave thim. Miss 
Kobin!” said Moira, as they parted for the night, 
Moira going up to her room with a few subdued 
mutterings about her “ ould bones,” and Kobin going 
with as serene a countenance as she could assume to 
take Jean’s place in reading to their father. 

“You’re all out of breath, dear; where have you 
been ?” said her father. 

“ Kunning a little,” said Kobin. 

Jean broke forth into complaints. “She’s always 
going off by herself like that nowadays, and having 
something on her mind ; and Moira v/asn’t any- 
where, and I had to put the children to bed. I 
wouldn’t mind that, of course; Kobin does so much ” 
— Jean made this amendment after being convicted 
of selfishness by her father’s eyes — “ but I don’t like 
to be treated as if I were a child mj^self, when I 
shall be thirteen next month.” 

Jean’s grievance was laughed at, and in the diver- 
sion thus created no one remembered to ask again 
where Kobin had been. Her father trusted her so, 
Kobin thought, with a little pang. But what would 
he have had her do ? Tell the truth at once, at what- 
ever cost ! He would not have spared Ken, the real 
criminal, at Jo Wilkes’s expense; she knew that. 
And queeiiy enough, Kobin felt a strong thrill of 
pride at her father’s goodness, the goodness to which 
she thought it was impossible for her to attain. 


159 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

What she had done was for his sake — for Ken’s 
sake and his ; there was a crumb of comfort in that. 
Kow she must pay for the watcli ; she must send tlie 
money anonymously to Martha Hallett. She would 
understand that it was “ conscience money;” perhaps 
she would think that Jo Wilkes sent it. And Jo 
Wilkes — she must try to follow his fortunes, to 
make amends for the wrong done him; and she 
must show Ken how wrong he had been, and try to 
bring him to repentance. To bring Ken to re- 
pentance ! that Was by no means the easiest part of 
her task. 

She was reading one of the early fathers of the 
Church — Jean had finished the newspaper — and it 
was hard to keep her mind upon it even sufficiently 
to “ mind the stops.” How tiresome he was, this dull 
old father, with his ‘‘ hierarchies ” and his heptar- 
chies” and his ^‘anthologies.” Could he ever have 
known the sharp troubles of living, like having a 
brother whom he must shield although it were 
wicked? Kobin had always liked to read about the 
martyrs who had “ scorned the rack and flame,” but 
she never should again — never again; it would be 
too great a reproach. Would Thanny try to see 
her, to tell her about Jo Wilkes, when he returned 
from Sandford? She expected at every moment 
to hear him at the door. He would not be late, 
for Cap’n Saul insisted upon early hours. Thanny 
would see no reason for privacy, and would talk 
about the matter before every one, and how should 
she bear it? How much did Carlsen suspect, and 
would he ever accuse her? Would Thanny observe 
the absence of the Mary Ann when he went down 


160 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN ” 

to the slip to cross to Lobster Point? And how 
would she account for it if he did ? 

Filled as she was with these anxieties, it was snaall 
wonder that Pobin mispronounced the ancient father’s 
long words until the listener’s brow contracted more 
and more. 

^‘You don’t read as well as usual, Robin. We’ll 
give it up for to-night. I’m sure you are tired,” he 
said at length. And Robin, although she protested, 
closed the book with a long sigh of relief. 

She was up the next morning at the first peep of 
daylight. The thought of Gridiron Cove was like a 
nightmare, but she must go down there alone to bring 
home the Mary Ann, if, indeed, it had been left there 
according to the agreement made with Thanny. 

She ran down tlie bluffs to the pier. She would 
go down in the row-boat, and if she should find the 
Mary Ann — These anxious reflections were inter- 
rupted by the sight of the Mary Ann fastened to 
the slip as usual, and looking as trim and tidy as if 
she had never been oft* on a nocturnal trip away 
beyond the Chunks. 

There was a smooth flat stone upon her stern seat, 
and when Robin lifted it a five-dollar bill was dis- 
closed. 

“ I didn’t think of that,” said Robin to herself, 
wrinkling her brows over this new perplexity. It 
was the Mary Annus business this summer to earn 
money, but Robin could not feel that this was lawful 
gain. “ But I know what I will do with it !” she ex- 
claimed aloud the next moment. 

What she did do with it was to enclose it in an 
envelope, and send it by mail, without any explana- 


161 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ’’ 

tion, to Jo Wilkes’s mother, and it was a nine days’ 
pleasurable wonder to the poor woman and the little 
crippled girl, who were preparing to return to their 
old friends at Fleetwell, where, as the mother con- 
stantly repeated, “ I^o one would believe that her Jo 
was a thief.” 

But the sending of the money was only a slight 
balm to Bobin’s conscience. 

She had scarcely time to slip the money into her 
pocket that morning when Thanny’s row-boat came 
in sight, and Thanny’s keen little eyes were upon 
her. ‘‘ Geewhittaker ! there she is, ain’t she?” he 
cried. Well, as true as you’re a livin’ sinner. Miss 
Bobin, she wa’n’t here when I went acrost last 
night !” 

Thanny’s face was full of excitement as he hopped 
out of his boat upon the slip. 

‘‘ What fine perch, Thanny !” said Bobin, display- 
ing great interest in the string of fish in his hand. 

“ Ain’t they stunners ? Saul made me go and catch 
some for breakfast. We had pork-fat and hardtack, 
but Saul likes high livin’, so I’m goin’ to carry these 
up to Moira. Say, do you s’pose them fellers got the 
Mary Ann? He had broke out of jail, Jo Wilkes 
had, and them dead ’n’ alive Sandford folks had jest 
found it out! 1 happened to come acrost the new 
manager. He was jest goin’ home from the works. 
Folks says he’s there night and day. He’s so full 
of business. He’s makin’ new plans and — ” 

‘‘You met Carlsen, and you told him. Go on, 
Thanny,” interrupted Bobin, with feverish eagerness. 

“He listened, but he didn’t seem so much worked 
up as he ought to have been. He said he’d get the 
11 


162 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN ” 

slierijff, and drive right over to Gridiron Cove. He 
said I’d ought to have told of it sooner, but he didn’t 
seem to be in any great of a hurry himself. I tell 
you^ what Bert Crocker told me was true. I met 
him a little while after, and I told him. What if 
Carlsen did tell me I might as well not say anything 
about it? ’Twa’n’t his business; and Saul b’longs 
to the Law and Order League, and I ain’t goin’ to 
give thieves a chance to get away if the glass folks 
donH want ’em caught.” 

“ Don’t want them caught ?” echoed Bobin, inter- 
rogatively. 

“ That’s what Bert Crocker says. He says they’re 
havin’ such a row with the men over there, anyhow, 
that they don’t want to make things any worse. Jo 
Wilkes was a fav’rite, and the men wouldn’t b’lieve 
he stole that watch, and they threatened to burn down 
the works if he was convicted. That’s what Bert 
Crocker says. That new man, with his difrunt ways, 
and takin’ no notice of the union, has got ’em all stirred 
up. Bert says some folks said it was the worst day 
Beuben Hallett ever saw when his daughter had Jo 
Wilkes took up for stealin’ her watch. But it seems 
to me its kind of hard if girls have got to have their 
watches stole and say nothin’, jest because their 
fathers are glass manufacturers. Say, do you suppose 
that them fellers come up here and hooked the Mary 
Ann 

“ Ho, I don’t think they did,” said Bobin, slowly. 

“ Well, all I know is when I come down here last 
night there wasn’t any boat layin’ here at this slip, 
but just your row-boat and my row-boat that I come 
over in.” 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 


163 


“It was late, and you were in a hurry, and — and 
moonlight is so deceitful, Thanny,” stammered Robin, 
hating herself for her duplicity. 

^ “ If you’re hintin’ that I was so scairt ’cause ’twas 

after nine o’clock that I didn’t know the Mary Ann 
from a shadder, well, then, I ain’t no such af raid-cat !” 
said Thanny, indignantly. “ A feller that has come 
through the marsh road all alone without whistlin’ a 
note ain’t apt to get scairt right out here in the moon- 
light in sight of his own house.” 

“ I didn’t think that you were afraid,” said Robin, 
“ and perhaps the boat was gone, but it doesn’t mat- 
ter, since she has come back safe and sound.” 

“You don’t b’lieve but what she was here!” said 
Thanny, sagely. “ You wouldn’t take it so cool if 
you thought she’d been helpin’ a thief to get away.” 

“ I’ll take the fish up to Moira, Thanny. It was 
very good of you to remember us, and oh, Tlianny, 
if you should hear anything more about Jo Wilkes, 
be sure to tell me. But I — I wish you wouldn’t say 
anything about the boat to anybody.” 

“ She don’t b’lieve it. She thinks I was too scairt 
to see out of my eyes,” said Thanny to himself, feel- 
ing more angry with his friend and shipmate than 
he had ever felt before. “ I shouldn’t wonder a mite 
if Saul was right when he says there ain’t no de- 
pendin’ on girls, l^o matter how much a feller 
thinks of ’em, they’ll suspect him of bein’ scairt. 
I’ll just find out where the Mary Ann went to last 
night, and I’ll prove to her that I wa’n’t mistaken, as 
sure as my name is Thanny Baker.” 

Unconscious of the depth of the wound which 
Thanny’s pride had received, Robin went on her way, 


164 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY AI^n” 

feeling that matters Lad taken a fortunate turn. Since 
so many people were willing that Jo Wilkes should 
escape, there was likely to be but little investigation 
of the manner of his going. No one, except perhaps 
Carlsen, would suspect that the Mary Ann had any 
share in it, and of what advantage would it be to 
Carlsen to make his suspicions known % She was 
afraid of Carlsen, but she had been afraid of him 
since he had looked at her so curiously that day at 
the works, when she had cried out that Jo Wilkes 
was innocent. It seemed to her that he had under- 
stood in a flash that Ken had the watch. But she 
thought that he would not betray Ken unless it were 
for his interest to do so. If Ken knew the secret of 
Freneau’s discovery, Carlsen might use his suspicions 
to make him divulge it; but since that was locked up 
in poor Dave’s injured brain, for Carlsen to persecute 
them would answer no purpose, and Bobin thought 
that Carlsen, full as he was of plans for furthering 
his own interests, would not trouble himself about 
anything that was to no purpose. At the worst, how 
could he prove anything against Ken ? Bobin’s flf- 
teen-year-old brains bade fair to become as acute as 
a lawyer’s with much worrying over these painful 
problems. 

Lawn parties go on, though troubles may lie heavy 
at one’s heart. And at the last moment it was dis- 
covered that Bobin’s old mohair dress would not do ; 
the latest darn was so pervereely conspicuous. Mam- 
ma Dinsmore said, that it must never be displayed to 
the Bawlins girls, who were so unfamiliar with darns. 
There was an old pink muslin which could be made 
more presentable by the aid of ribbons, and Mamma 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 


165 


Dinsmore opened a trunk full of treasures — “relics 
of ould dacencj,” Moira called them. Robin didn’t 
like to have her do it, because she always cried over 
them, and — poor little mamma, Robin said, and 
would not suffer any one to hint that she could be 
selffsh — she did not like to see her precious pretty 
things worn by others, even by her own daughter. 
There are a few mothers who are not, and cannot be, 
motherly, and that is why the eldest daughter at the 
house on the bluffs had her hands and heart so full. 

Ribbons that concealed the shabbiness of the old 
muslin came out of the treasure trunk ; and, oh joy 
for Jean ! some hair ribbons which just matched her 
sash. There were some gold- wire bracelets — Robin 
had to coax for those for Jean — and that small per- 
son’s cup ran over as they set forth to the lawn 
party. Parties were delightful, and pretty clothes 
too. How happy she might be, thought Robin, if 
only carking care would not perch upon her shoul- 
der along with the pink satin bows ! 

“Pm so glad you’ve come!” cried Martha, running to 
meet them, as the servant ushered them into the hall. 
“The Gifford girls are already here, and now Ju 
will see that it’s too late to put people off !”• 

“Didn’t she want us?” asked Robin, in natural 
dismay at this reception. 

“ Oh, Ju is such a goose, and she /las had a lot of 
trouble,” said Martha. “ She has to have hot crimps, 
you know, her hair is so straight, and she heated her 
pins too hot, and burnt half her bangs off 1 Fancy, 
one side is burned away up to the roots 1 And poor 
Ju has an Alpine forehead. She did look too funny 
for anything. 1 could have twisted some hair around 


166 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

some way to cover it, but poor Ju thinks so much of 
looks ! She cried, and wanted me to put people off 
— at ten minutes past four, and the Giffords’ carriage 
at the gate! ‘From four to eight,’ you know, the 
cards said. We wanted it all in the evening, the 
grounds look so pretty with lanterns ; but Mrs. Ilaw- 
lins put it into mamma’s head that girls who w^ere 
not old enough to be out ought not to receive at all 
in the evening. We had hard work to make her 
consent to eight o’clock !” 

“ And has Julia really got only half a hang ?” asked 
Jean, sympathetically. 

“ Oh, I was telling you, wasn’t I? Well, poor Ju 
was in perfect despair, when Miss Ferris came to the 
rescue. She’s a dear old thing, after all ; hut then, 
of course, it doesn’t matter whether she has any hair 
or not. You know her hair is just like Ju’s; very 
light, with no particular color. Well, she cut off all 
the hair she had, so she’ll have to wear a breakfast 
cap all the time, to make a fringe for Ju ! They’re 
fastening it on and crimping it now, hut Ju keeps 
saying that if the party could be put off until to-mor- 
row, she should look as well as ever. There isn’t 
much time to arrange it, but — poor dear Ju! — it 
doesn’t make much difference, you know. Oh, I for- 
got, Carlsen’s little girl just brought over this hair 
ribbon, which she says her father thinks is yours. 
Just think of his noticing that you wore a blue-and- 
white checked hair ribbon ! And she says that he 
found it away over in Gridiron Cove ! It isn’t 
yours, is it ?” 

“ Eobin hasn’t been to Gridiron Cove, have you, 
Eobin ?” asked Jean. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Hobin held the bit of checked ribbon in her hand, 
and looked at it in a kind of helpless dismay, while 
Martha, too much excited by her position as hostess to 
think of what seemed to her a trifle, rattled on, fort- 
unately drowning Jean’s persistent questions, and 
even making the questioner forget them, which it 
was very unusual for her to do, for Jean’s bump of 
curiosity was almost as large as Thanny Baker’s. 

“What do you think? I’ve had an idea!” cried 
Martha. “Miss Ferris was always wanting us to 
have ideas, and now one has come to me. Ju has 
always owned that I was wonderfully clever in get- 
ting rid of Miss Ferris, and now I’m going to do it 
for good.” 

“ When she has just been so kind? I think she’s 
nice,” said Jean, severely. 

“ Oh, she’ll be better off ; she has a horrid time 
with us,” said Martha, Aankly. “You know Uncle 
Ambrose Gifford ? lie’s an old dear — a bachelor, or 
widower, or something — and preaches in old Dep- 
ford. I was running through the hall in search of 
some sharp scissors when Miss Ferris offered to sac- 
rifice her locks, and I saw him in the library talking 
with papa. I ran in and told about it. I made such 
a pretty story of her devotion that Uncle Ambrose 
was touched, I’m sure. I’ve seen him shying up to 


168 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

her several times. And I killed two birds with one 
stone without intending it. I made a good impres- 
sion upon papa, who has been dreadfully cross to me 
of late, as if I were to blame about that w^atch. lie 
said he was glad to see some sign of my appreciating 
my governess. I’m going to show my appreciation 
by marrying her to Uncle Ambrose Giifford ! I’ve 
really ^ot to get rid of her !” Martha’s brow dark- 
ened suddenly. “ She’s taken to watching me, and 
she comes up behind me so suddenly that she makes 
me jump. I’m sure I don’t know what she has got 
into her head ; perhaps she is going to be crazy. 
Oh, there are the Farrar girls ! Isn’t that a hat ?” 

Martha was welcoming a host of girls, of a great 
variety of clothes and manners. Their father in- 
sisted upon their sending invitations wdth much less 
discrimination than they would have liked to use 
since their New York winters, and the grandchildren 
of some of those who had helped him on in the 
w^orld ” wore the homespun dress and manners of the 
stay-at-home girls and boys of the Cape. 

Did Carlsen know what Ken had done, and why 
she had helped Jo Wilkes to escape? To say that 
he had found the ribbon in Gridiron Cove was cer- 
tainly as much as to say, ‘*I know that you were 
there the night when Jo Wilkes escaped.” This 
thought w^as torturing Kobin while she tried to re- 
spond to the merry greetings of her friends. It w^as 
a little relief to see Duke Kawlins coming towards 
her, making his way painfully, but with a bright 
face, through the gay groups on the great shady 
lawn. She could not tell him — if she only might ! — 
but some bits of the quotation he had read to her 


169 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘mAEY ANN ” 

which he had, said helped him came to her with a 
kind of comfort. That was a good grim bit about 
the man who when Ids legs were smitten ofP had 
fought upon his stumps !” If only she had done ab- 
solutely right! What would Duke say to know just 
what they had done, Ken and she ? 

I have a letter from Ken,” he said, eagerly, as he 
reached her. ‘‘ I want you to hear something there 
is in it. Will you come down here under the oak- 
tree ? The others are all going to the other side ; 
the music is in the old summer-house. We shall be 
quite quiet. But perhaps you are in a hurry to dance 
or play tennis 

Kobin shook her head dolefully ; poor Bobin, 
whose feet had been wont to tingle at the sound of a 
merry tune, would she ever wish to dance again ? 

“ I knew you would be glad to hear from Ken,” 
said Duke, a little doubtfully, evidently puzzled by 
her manner. ‘‘ He said he had only written a scrap 
of a letter home. Poor Ken 1 he was awfully in the 
dumps when he went away, but I think things are 
better with him now.” 

There was a seat under a great oak-tree, on the 
sunny side of the lawn, and Kobin sat down upon it, 
turning a pale and wistful face towards Duke. 

“ ‘A fellow learns a great deal in next to no time 
when he goes out into the world with little in his 
pocket and less in his head, like me,’ ” read Duke. 
He had skipped the first part of the letter, with a 
little murmur of impatience ; afterwards Kobin re- 
membered that. ‘‘ ‘ I knew that I wasn’t much of a 
fellow, but I didn’t see how many chances I was 
wasting. My sister told me so, but a fellow doesn’t 


170 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

like having girls telling him what he ought to do. 
She’s twice the fellow that I am, though, my sister 
Kobin, and she won’t do anything she thinks is wrong, 
not to save her life.’ ” 

“ Oh, oh, he doesn’t know !” murmured Robin, 
with a choking sensation. 

“ ‘ She’s pretty proud, and she minds’ — h’m — h’m 
— that’s nothing,” said Duke, interrupting his read- 
ing. “‘I’m afraid I was pretty hateful to her, and 
to them all, at home, and they must have been glad 
to get rid of me. The work here is pretty rougli, 
and it makes a fellow flare up inside to be ordered 
round as I am ; but so far I’ve had sense enough to 
keep my wrath to myself. The boy isn’t much of 
anybody in a great manufacturing establishment, 
and he isn’t going to be put up with as he is at 
home. But I think if I behave myself there is going 
to be a chance to learn the business, and that’s what 
I want more than anything else in the world. I be- 
lieve I told you that there were some things that had 
given me a great notion for chemistry. But now 
I’ve got an idea that I can’t get rid of, that I played 
the shirk in leaving home. They need me there ; 
that is, if I should do my part as I ought, and not 
shirk. Instead of whining because things went 
wrong I ought to have faced the music and made 
them better. If I had even gone fishing to any 
purpose, and not let Robin take passengers out in 
the Mary Ann — ’ ” 

“ Poor Ken ! he needn’t mind that,” said Robin. 

“ There’s nothing like a little homesickness to 
bring a fellow onto his marrow - bones !” said Duke. 
“The first time I went away to school I found 


KKN S I.KTTKR 





1 




THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” lYl 

ont what a cub I had been at home, I can tell 
you !” 

“ ‘ I shall write to Eobin,’ ” the letter went on, 
“ ‘ and ask her if she thinks I ought to come home, 
not to dawdle and shirk, but to put in my best licks. 
She’s the one who will understand.’ ” 

“ That is what I wanted you to hear,” said Duke, 
folding his letter up, although Eobin cast a wistful 
glance at the other page. “ I thought, of course, you 
knew your own family affairs, and I’m afraid it 
seems like impertinence for me to say anything, 
but I do think it would be such a pity for Ken to 
come back.” 

Oh, a great pity,” said Eobin, mechanically. 
She was trying to think how much Ken could mean 
by proposing to come back. Would he ‘‘face the 
music ” so far as to confess everything ? She was the 
one who would understand, he had said, and that 
sounded, she thought, as if he did mean to confess. 

“ He’s the kind of a fellow, to be sure, to have an 
awful lot of persistency about anything that he takes 
to, and there really isn’t anything here for him to do. 
I think he would get dull and discontented again, 
no matter how brave he might be,” continued Duke. 

“He really ought not to come, ought he?” said 
Eobin, eagerly. She had wished that he might be 
brave enough to undo the wrong ; she had even tried 
to pray that he might, and now, suddenly, she felt 
tliat she could not endure it. For him to suffer such 
disgrace — Ken, who was so proud ! And his father 
and mother could never bear it. Let Carlsen threat- 
en and try to frighten her ; there was nothing that 
he could prove — nothing. 


172 


THE MATE OF THE ‘^MARY ANN ” 

I shall certainly tell him to stay,” said Kobin. 
But she looked so pale and excited that Duke was 
startled. 

‘‘ You mustn’t let this trouble you. I thought you 
would like to know that Ken was so — so plucky,” he 
said. “It really does a fellow good to get out of 
the way of being coddled, and to have to obey orders. 
And if I could do anything — if you would look upon 
me as a brother in Ken’s place, while he is gone, I 
should be awfully glad. I’m not a bit bad at being 
a brother, if I am lame. I’m so used to it. You 
can ask Peggy and Kitty.” 

“You’re very good, but I shall do very well. I 
don’t need any help,” said Kobin, in a stiff little voice. 
It was stiff because she was afraid of its breaking, 
but Duke, who didn’t know that, thought she resent- 
ed what might seem like interference on his part, and 
mournfully called himself a donkey. 

Kobin went and played tennis, and danced with 
the gayest. 

“ She is just getting over Ken’s going,” said Jean 
to sympathetic Kitty Kawlins. “ She’s had a face a 
yard long.” 

Julia Hallett, with a fringe of little bobbing curls 
ruthlessly shorn from Miss Ferris’s devoted head, 
penned Kobin into a corner to make her “solemnly 
swear” that she didn’t “ look a fright.” Miss Ferris 
hung about the background, trying to do what was 
expected of her in keeping out of the way, with her 
meek little face aglow with pleasure at her self-sac- 
rifice. 

“ It’s a success, isn’t it said Julia, being reassured 
in the matter of bangs. “ All but Peggy Kawlins. 


173 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN” 

She’s too grown-up, and she wants to be useful. She 
wanted to pour chocolate — think of it ! — as if it were 
an afternoon tea. I told her we didn’t do things in 
any such small wa}^ She said, ‘Oh, I thought it 
was just a boy and girl party !’ I think it was rude, 
though Martha says she didn’t mean to be. Now 
she’s devoting herself to those shy, countrified little 
Farrar girls. See ! if she isn’t making Josh Gifford 
dance with her ! The last time he came here to a 
party he hid under the attic stairs, and we had to 
drag him out to supper.” 

Jean went to sleep in the carriage in which Mr. 
Ilallett sent them home, but Fobin said to herself 
all the way home, and half through the night, until 
in spite of herself she fell asleep, “ I will tell Ken not 
to come home.” 

She waited anxiously for Ken’s letter, which was 
not very satisfactory when it came. For Ken did 
not unburden his mind so freely to her as he had 
done to Duke Kawlins. It w*as because Duke did 
not know everything, as she did, Kobin said to her- 
self. But he did say that he thought sometimes that 
he ought to come home and bear his share of the 
family burdens, and asked her opinion about the mat- 
ter. He admitted that he had been “ as savage as a 
catamount” before he went away, but he had had 
much to trouble him. He had already learned that 
there was no room for shirks in the world, and if he 
did come home the mate of the Mary Ann should 
never again be obliged to be captain and mate too. 

The paper which Prim had found, and which she 
had sent him, had proved to be of no value ; an ex- 
pert at handwriting had been able to make out a few 


174 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

words. As a last resort he had sent it to the apoth- 
ecary at Kingstown — the apothecary who had laughed 
at him — but without much hope. At all events, 
there were some things which the apothecary would 
not know, unless he could remember the things which 
Dave had asked for in vain. “I said lots of hateful 
things to you about that paper, Kobin, but it was 
such a disappointment to lose that chance of a fort- 
une ! I can’t trust myself to think of it, even now.” 
Then followed anxious questions about Dave’s con- 
dition, which showed that he had not abandoned all 
hope of the fortune which was to be made by Fre- 
neau’s discovery. ‘‘ I’ve learned the value of money 
as well as ever a boy knew it. I’ll warrant !” he wrote. 

It drags you into the mire to be without it.” 

“ That isn’t true !” cried Kobin, hotly, as she read. 
‘‘Nothing can drag you into the mire but yourself. 
And I shall tell him so when I write.” 

But, after all, she did nothing of the kind. Her 
letter was constrained, as letters are apt to be when 
one cannot speak of the thing that lies nearest one’s 
heart. How could she say anything about repentance 
to Ken, since it was of no avail without restitution ? 
How reproach him for the wrong which she had 
helped him to conceal? “We are doing very well, 
and there is no need of you at home,” she wrote. 

She worked and saved with fierce energy ; that was 
to pay for the watch. She patched her old boating- 
dress anew, and went down to the Quansett wharf to 
look for passengers. She went fishing with Cap’n 
Saul, did a boy’s work, and had her share of the catch, 
which Saul and Thanny sold for her. They eyed 
her askance, noticing how grasping she had become. 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 175 

There’s more amiss up tliere than we know of,” 
Cap’n Saul had said, one night, smoking his after- 
supper pipe. ‘‘You might jest as well scant our 
share a little when you’re dividin’, Thanny. She 
ain’t nothin’ but a gal.” 

Good, stingy Cap’n Saul ! he had had a struggle 
with himself, which only Thanny knew of, before he 
said that. 

Being so busily occupied Bobin went but seldom to 
Sandford, refusing most of the invitations of the Hal- 
lett and Bawlins girls, who were having a merry sum- 
mer with picnics, and sailing, and tennis-parties. She 
had seen Carlsen only twice, and he had given her a 
quizzical little smile as he bowed. He had been 
obliged to give up his experiments upon Dave, because 
the doctor had forbidden them. Dave had been fever- 
ish and ill for a week as a result of his glass-making 
at the works, and the doctor had been decided in his 
condemnation of any attempt at forcing his memory. 
His mind must be amused and only gently stimulated, 
he said ; and Adam was lent to him, at Jean’s sug- 
gestion that he was well adapted to this work. Adam 
made things lively in the little house on the edge 
of the marsh. Dave’s shouts of laughter could be 
heard far and wide, and even Bobin was cheered, al- 
most in spite of herself, when she went there, by his 
pranks. What Adam had needed to develop his 
talents was a playfellow, and he had found one in 
Dave. Annette worked cheerfully at anything she 
could find to do to keep the wolf from the door, and 
declared that her Dave was becoming himself once 
more, although no one else could see any change. 

The Bawlinses came often to the bluffs on their 


176 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ’’ 

walks and drives, in spite of Eobin’s unsocial ways ; 
but Duke never said anything more about Ken, and 
this was a relief, after all, although Eobin knew that 
the correspondence between them was much more 
brisk than that which Ken kept up with his own 
family. 

And with all Eobin’s efforts, the money to pay for 
the watch — the conscience money — was gathered so 
slowly ! But the summer had drifted away, and the 
summer sun had made the cranberries plump and 
rosy, and the promise of a great crop was still held 
out. The meadow was a mile from the bluffs, down 
below Honeypot Marsh, but Eobin was never weary 
of trudging over the road ; the cranberries meant so 
much : she could pay for the watch ; she might even 
send something to Jo AVilkes’s mother. The light- 
ening of her father’s anxieties, the home comforts 
they would bring, were scarcely thought of now. 

Eobin was going to pick, herself, and Jean as well, 
if her high courage held out, and Eobin had already 
engaged the Blodgett children ; Annette, for as much 
of the time as she could leave Dave; Thanny, who 
declared that he wouldn’t leave the cranberries even 
to catch a whale ; Joey Fickett, of clove-lozenge mem- 
ory ; and, in fact, a host of Quansett boys and girls, 
who were all her friends, to say nothing of Julia 
Hallett and Kitty Eawlins, who were going to pick 
for fun. 

Only one danger now seemed to threaten the cran- 
berries, and that was frost ; it was desirable to leave 
them on the vines as long as possible, but now, in 
late September, the nights were very cool. Some 
night might come a killing frost. There were flood- 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN” 


177 


gates on the edge of the meadow, bj means of which 
it could be flooded, and the cranberries protected 
from their enemy ; and Thanny, as well as Kobin, 
kept watch and ward. 

But one day they had gone for some deep-sea fish- 
ing away out beyond the Chunks, and a keen wind 
blew up which filled Thanny with alarm. 

“ So long as it’s windy, Thanny, there’s no danger,” 
said Bobin, for it was always stealthily, in the still, 
cold nights, that the deadly frost came upon the 
cranberries. 

‘‘The wind is going down with the sun, and then 
it’s going to be cold^'^ said Thanny, sagely. 

“ Old Prob didn’t say so,” said Eobin, who was 
constantly in the counsels of the Weather Bureau. 

“Mebbe he wa’n’t born on the Cape,” suggested 
Thanny. “He don’t always know. If them low- 
layin’ black clouds don’t mean cold — ” 

“Wind, more likely,” said Cap’n Saul, survey- 
ing them with a practised eye. “We can fish until 
dark, and then have a breeze that ’ll take us home 
kitin’.” 

The Hallett girls were on board, and Peggy and 
Duke Kawlins. Cap’n Saul had promised them some 
“tall fishin’,” and they were pulling in some very 
large fish. It had been warm in the morning, warm 
and misty, with so little wind that the Flying Scud 
had been a long time in reaching the fishing-ground. 
How Cap’n Saul was in no hurry to leave, both out 
of consideration for the catch and for his guests. It 
was his opinion that both Eobin and Thanny were 
unreasonably, childishly anxious about the cranber- 
ries. 

12 


178 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

Tliannj kept liis eye on the clouds, and had but 
slight regard even for the forty -pounder which he 
had caught. 

The wind died away at sunset; it fell suddenly, 
and Cap’n Saul immediately bestirred himself. The 
Flying Scud was too heavy a boat to row ; to be be- 
calmed would mean to stay out all night. That had 
often happened to the Scud when Cap’n Saul and 
Thanny were alone in her ; but with the passengers 
he had to-day it was a more serious matter. Thanny 
was about to betake himself to the tender, but his 
brother interposed. 

It is too far to row, Thanny, and you won’t make 
anything. There’s a cloud out there that’s a-going to 
bring us a capful of wind anyhow.” 

But the capful of wind didn’t come. The dark 
cloud wandered off, out to sea apparently, and the 
stars began to shine out of a clear, quiet sky ; the air 
grew stiller, and there was scarcely a ripple on the 
water. ‘‘ I declare, if ever I was so beat by the 
weather!” exclaimed Cap’n Saul. ‘‘I don’t know as 
ever I see wind give out jest like that.” 

The Hallett girls, who had acquired quite a repu- 
tation for whistling up a breeze, whistled all in vain; 
and Julia stuck pins into the sail until no one had 
another pin to spare. After two hours, in which the 
Scud's motion was scarcely perceptible, Thanny took 
resolutely to the tender. 

“ If anybody wants to go ’long of me, I’m goin’ to 
get there 1” he announced. 

“ I want to go, but it would make the boat heavier, 
and delay you,” said Kobin. “ Oh, Thanny 1 But I 
know you will do all you can.” 


179 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

“You won’t see land before daylight; the Bcud 
will be in ahead of you 1” called Cap’n Saul. 

But Thanny set his teeth tightly together, and 
took up his oars. “Exercise ain’t bad for a feller 
to-night, for it is cold, and no mistake,” he said. 

Robin crouched in tlie stern, a heap of misery ; the 
cranberries were lost, and with them all her hopes. 

The dim gray dawn lighted Thanny as he landed 
at Gridiron Cove, the nearest point to the cranberry 
meadow. A heavy white frost covered all the fields. 
Cramped and full of pains was Thanny, and nearly 
W’orn out ; but he carried his heavy heart bravely 
through bog and brier to the meadow. No white 
frost here, but glistening water over all the vines ! 
And yet the gates seemed scarcely raised at all. He 
hurried over to them. A figure rose from the ground, 
a wet and draggled figure. From the shawl thrown 
over her head Annette Freneau’s anxious face looked 
out at him. 

“ I could not lift the gates enough, and it was too 
late to get any one, so 1 have not dare to go away. 
Is it that the cranberries are safe ?” 

“ You’ve been here all night ?” gasped Thanny. He 
extended one of his little, hard, brown paws. “ I say, 
shake, will you? You — you — you’re consid’able of 
a girl !” 


CHAPTER XIV 


The cranberry-picking began the next day. Will- 
ing bands made light work, and the harvesting was 
soon accomplished. Prices went down, vexatiously, 
but Pobin “held on,” according to Cap’n Saul’s 
counsel, and up they came again, according to Cap’n 
Saul’s prediction. It was very queer and delightful 
to be such a business woman. And such a pocketful 
of money to be all one’s own ! It was enough to 
turn any fifteen-year-old head. How very happy she 
should be, thought Robin, if only she had not upon 
her mind the memory of that dreadful wrong done 
to Jo AVilkes. And now that she had at last obtained 
the money to pay for the watch — all her pitiful little 
savings had been as nothing towards it — an unfore- 
seen difficulty had arisen. How could she convey the 
money to Martha Hallett without leading her to sus- 
pect Ken ? Sandford was a little town, where it was 
difficult even to drop a letter into the post-office un- 
perceived ; and there would be an effort made to 
trace a letter which contained a hundred and twenty- 
five dollars. (Robin had learned the price of the 
watch from Julia by dint of many suggestive re- 
marks.) The Halletts would talk of it everywhere ; 
it would cause a nine days’ wonder; and just now, 
when it was known that she had received money for 
her cranberries, would not suspicion be likely to fall 


THE MATE OF THE “mAKY ANN 


181 


upon Ken? And there was Carlsen, who already 
suspected, who perhaps had only refrained from 
making his suspicions known because his trouble at 
the works, with the growing dissatisfaction of the 
men, absorbed all his thoughts. 

Ko, it would never do. She must carry that bur- 
den at least for a while longer, unless Ken should 
now be willing to confess. It would be easier now 
that the watch could be paid for. He had said that 
he should save and save, and never have any peace 
until it was paid for ; but with the wages of a boy, 
barely enough at the best for him to exist upon, how 
long it would be before he had saved enough ! He 
never hinted at the matter in his brief letters ; but 
then it was understood that all the household should 
read Ken’s letters, and that fact was sufficient to ac- 
count for his reticence. But now he had been prom- 
ised a vacation of a few days, and he was coming 
home. She wished him to confess now, for the bur- 
den had become intolerable ; it had spoiled all the 
pleasure of the summer — the freshness of the morn- 
ings and the smell of the salt spray ; even the cran- 
berry money, although that had bought soft shoes 
and new petticoats for Moira, and for all in the house 
the things they liked best. If only Ken would con- 
fess ! Perhaps it could be managed, the watch paid 
for, and Jo Wilkes’s reputation cleared, without much 
publicity, without having the matter come to her fa- 
ther’s ears. 

She had grown pale and thin ; people wondered at 
her altered looks ; her father thought them the re- 
sult of hard work, and insisted upon her going to 
picnics and sailing -parties. She gave up her class 


182 THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAKY ANN ” 

in the little mission - school at Quansett, every one 
thought, because she was ill; but Robin said to her- 
self that it was because she could no longer endure 
to be a hypocrite. She left the day after the lesson 
liad been from the text, ‘^The way of the transgressor 
is hard.” How she had explained that text to her 
class ! — the mites who scarcely understood what it all 
meant, but looked at her with wondering eyes. 

“ It was remarkable to hear her warn those children 
against wrong-doing — that girl, hardly more than a 
child herself,” said the lady who taught an adjoining 
class, a belated summer visitor. 

“ It was because I Ttnew^^ said Robin to herself, 
overhearing the remark. 

And, after all, Ken did not come. The boy’s vaca- 
tion was the last consideration in a large establish- 
ment, and he could not easily be spared. 

“ But I don’t complain, Robin,” he wrote, ‘‘ for 
they trust me more and more every day ; and it’s the 
most fascinating business in the world. I’ve almost 
forgotten why I wanted to learn it at first in my 
interest in the business itself. I wonder if old Fre- 
neau really had found out anything new about color- 
ing glass? I’ve read up all the methods, and I un- 
derstand about all the materials used, but it seems to 
me that everything must be already known that he 
could have found out. I sent that paper to the 
Kingstown apothecary, but he couldn’t make any- 
thing of it. It was just like a fellow who didn’t know 
much to go crazy over it, as I did then. And yet I 
can’t help thinking what if there should be anything 
ill it ? I am digging at Latin like a beaver ; what do 
you think of that, old girl? I have a use for it now\ 


183 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

I’ve seen the value of it; that’s worth all the preach- 
ing in the world to a dull fellow like me. But if 1 
only had listened to the pater, what a start I should 
have had !” 

It was a light-hearted letter tliroughout, in spite 
of the disappointment about his vacation. How 
manly and steadfast of purpose he had become — for 
Ken ! How good a thing for him had been this go- 
ing away from home ! But how strange that he 
should have succeeded so well with so terribly false 
a start ! And they “ trusted him more and more !” 

Mr. Eames, Duke’s tutor, who had secured the 
place for him, had told her what good reports he had 
heard from Ken — that not one boy in fifty would 
liave done as well, and that lie was likely to work 
himself into a fine position in time. 

And only she knew of what Ken was capable, 
what Ken had done — she, and perhaps Carlsen, who 
might be only biding his time. Sometimes the se- 
cret was so heavy a burden that she was tempted to 
confide it to Duke Kawlins — Duke, whose friendship 
for Ken might be strong enough to stand even that 
test. But then it would become Duke’s duty to tell, 
to clear Jo Wilkes, just as it was her dut}^, and Duke 
would never let such a wrong go unrighted. 

The troubles in the works were increasing, 

“ I’ve told father what was coming. I’ve told him 
all summer,” said Duke, in his thin, high-keyed voice, 
as he lingered one morning on his pony at the foot 
of the terrace steps. I’ve told him that the union 
wouldn’t put up with that fellow Carlsen’s high-hand- 
ed, arbitrary behavior, turning off a good workman at a 
moment’s notice, and replacing him with a foreigner, 


184 THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

just to show liis authority. Of coarse, he would have 
some story of the man’s incompetency to tell the 
firm. Oh, if ever I get over being a boy !” Duke’s 
fair face flushed with eagerness. I wouldn’t mind 
being lame, not even the pain, though that is pretty 
bad sometimes, if only there were not so many things 
to be done; and sometimes I can see how, and no one 
will believe in me, because I’m only a boy.” 

“But I think it’s awfully mean that they won’t 
hire foreigners,” said Jean, who always had the cour- 
age of her convictions. “ That w^as why poor old 
Freneau had a hard time ; both the men and the man- 
agers were down on him.” 

“ But glass-making isn’t like anything else,” said 
Duke. “Thej^’ve always guarded the secrets relig- 
iously, and there has always been great jealousy be- 
tween different countries. You ought to read all 
about it ; it’s like a story. Mr. Fames asked me 
the other day whether I would like to be a great 
preacher or a great statesman, and I gave him what 
he called an Irish answer ; I said, a great glass man- 
ufacturer. But, oh dear ! it seems to me that I shall 
be a boy forever.” 

A boy forever! Robin remembered that on an- 
other day, when it seemed like a prophecy. 

“To make perfect glass, you know ; no slighting, ' 
no cheapening ; and after getting a fair interest on 
money, share and share alike 1 They laugh at that, 
and call me a boy; but why isn’t it practical, I should 
like to know? And that’s what I call being a great' 
glass manufacturer. I should have to manage that 
foreign business in some way.” Duke wrinkled his 
brows slightly. “It was hard on old Freneau. I 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN 


185 


wonder why Carlsen took such an interest in that 
boy? I don’t think it can be true, as they say, that 
he knows anything of any importance. Carlsen has 
his hands full now, without trying to discover any 
inventions.” Duke spoke with a bitterness of which 
one would not have believed him capable. You 
see, it was different in the other factory; there’s noth- 
ing like a Cape man for standing up for his rights ! 
There’ll be a strike, and they’ll have to take foreign- 
ers. Carlsen talks about importing Bohemians.” 

‘‘I don’t see why they haven’t a right to,” said 
Jean, sturdily. 

That would be all very well if the men hadn’t 
been crowded. I think they were,” said Duke. 

‘‘Will there be fights?” asked Jean, breathlessly. 

“ You’ll see what there’ll be soon enough,” said 
Duke, as lie rode away. 

“ He’s a very queer boy,” said Jean, refiectively. 
“You’d think he was a hundred, but he will play 
tiddledywinks. He is sort of like a lame boy in a 
story, being so good to people, and playing the violin 
for us to dance one night until he nearly fainted, 
and wouldn’t own he was tired ; but they say he has 
an orfle temper, and one day he called Carlsen a 
brute and a villain.” 

“ I’m glad he did — I’m glad he did !” cried Robin. 

“ Well, if you haven’t a lot of old Adam, as Prim 
says of Traddles! When you didn’t know either 
that it was because Carlsen made Dicky Lawson 
work until he fainted, after he had burned his wrist 
to the bone !” 

“ I’m glad, anyway,” said Robin, and attempted no 
defence. 


186 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN’’ 

I used to be afraid that Robin would get to be a 
saint, but now I don’t think she ever will,” said Jean 
to herself, comfortably. 

The very next day came the news of the strike. 
Thanny, who was in a state of great excitement, 
came up to the bluffs to tell about it. 

“It’s in the new department, where Carlsen is 
boss, that the trouble is. The workmen have struck, 
every man jack of ’em ! They’re actin’ orfle, too, 
though the union has posted notices say in’ how they’d 
ought to behave well. There’s a lot of drinkin’ and 
fightin’, and there ain’t goin’ to be no school over 
there to-morrer. Them Sandford fellers always do 
have all the luck.” 

“Aren’t you ashamed, Thanny Baker, to wish to 
have such dreadful things happen here ?” This was 
Jean. Robin scarcely ever reproved any now nowa- 
days. 

“Nothin’ never happens to hender school’s keepin’ 
over here. A feller’s got some feel in’s,” said Than- 
ny, resentfully. 

“ Are they going to hire a new set of workmen, 
Thanny ?” asked Robin. 

“ Some say they be, some say they darsn’t,” said 
Thanny. “Mr. Rawlins had to go off to New York 
yesterday, and Mr. Hallett don’t have anything to do 
with the flint-glass department. Carlsen he’s havin’ 
things all his own way. Some say Hallett is so wor- 
ried it’s made him sick ; he ain’t showin’ himself out- 
doors, anyhow. Some say there’s a whole gang of 
men cornin’ down on the train Saturday, ready to be- 
gin work Monday morning ; they’re Germans or some- 
thing. No school Saturday !” Thanny expressed his 


187 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAEY ANN 

gratification by a double somerset on the grass below 
the back piazza steps, where Kobin and Jean were 
sitting. 

“ I don’t see how you can enjoy it, Thanny,” said 
Robin, making a feeble attempt at rebuke. ‘‘ The 
men will have no money, and their wives and chil- 
dren will suffer.” 

“ Union takes care of ’em, so much a week,” said 
practical Thanny. And they hain’t no business to 
strike; Saul says so. They’d ought to be thankful 
to get stiddy days’ works.” 

The opposing views of the matter presented by 
Cap’n Saul and Duke Rawlins were somewhat per- 
plexing. 

I wouldn’t think nothin’ about it if I was you ; 
girls can’t understand,” said Thanny, with masculine 
superiority, when Robin said this. “ I’m goin’ over, 
Saturday, and I’ll come and tell you about it,” he 
added, consolingly. 

But the lights were all out in the house on the 
bluffs when Thanny came home Saturday night. 
Cap’n Saul had gone over, also, forsaking his work. 
Peaceful Sandford had known no such excitement 
for years. Thanny fell asleep in Sunday-school the 
next day, being unaccustomed to late hours and ex- 
citement, and sprang up shouting out dreadful threats 
against the new workmen, to the great diversion of 
the other scholars. For Thanny ’s sympathies had 
veered round, and he now took sides with the old 
workmen against the foreign invasion. Saul might 
think as he liked, but he, Thanny, was a true son of 
the Cape, and wasn’t going to countenance foreigners. 

A hostile crowd had met the invaders at the sta- 


188 THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

tion, but there was a large force to preserve order, 
and beyond . threats and the throwing of a few mis- 
siles there was no violence. Placards were posted all 
over the towm, counselling the strikers to be sober and 
prudent. 

“ When they try to go to work Monday morning, 
then there’ll be fun,” announced Thanny, sorely ag- 
grieved that he must go to school. 

As soon as school was done that afternoon, Thanny 
made a short-cut through meadow, bog, and woods to 
Sandford, but at twilight he reappeared at the bluffs 
breathless. He stopped only to put his head in at 
the kitchen door. 

“ Say, Moira, tell ’em Dave Freneau has got lost in 
the marsh. The monkey ran away, and he went after 
him. I expect there ain’t any need of bein’ so scairt 
as Annette is ; she’s that kind of a girl ; and yet she 
ain’t all cry-baby neither.” (It was evident that 
Thanny was recalling the night when Annette had 
so bravely guarded the cranberries.) “ There’s three 
or four men searchin’ for him, but there ain’t any- 
body that knows the marsh like Saul.” 

Robin had heard, and came flying out. 

“Run, Thanny; don’t stop a minute! That bog 
is so treacherous. And, oh, poor Dave ! I’m afraid 
he won’t know enough to keep out of it. How long 
has he been there, Thanny ?” 

“ Since last night. I always said that there wa’n’t 
any profit in that monkey,” called Thanny, as he 
darted off. 

“ Annette must be almost wild, and she has no one. 
I must go down there,” said Robin. 

Moira called upon the saints to witness that her 


“ ‘ SAY, MOIRA, TELL 'EM DAVE FRENEAU HAS GOT LOST IN THE MARSH.’ ” 



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189 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ’’ 

back was “ broke,” but she would not let Eobin go 
alone, much less with Caphi Saul and Thanny. 

“ The company ye kapes on the salt say, that God 
is afther makin’, don’t be fitt’n at all at all on dhry 
land,” said Moira ; but what she meant, if she knew 
herself, Eobin could not stop to find out. Nothing 
would do but Jean must go too, and Prim undertook 
the gratifying responsibility of putting herself and 
the others to bed, liaving no misgivings except from 
the fact that Traddles persistently and frivolously 
winked while she said ^her prayers. 

Cap’n Saul had gone to Quansett to a meeting of 
the Law and Order League, which had been called 
on account of the disturbed state of the community, 
a large part of the youthful element of Quansett 
being in sympathy with the strikers, and disposed to 
active measures. Thanny had an opportunity to 
send a message to Saul by Steve Prettygo, who was 
on his way to the meeting, and came breathlessly 
running after the party from the bluffs before they 
were half-way to the Freneau cottage. 

Thanny had done his duty in the matter of the 
missing boy, but his mind was still chiefly occupied 
with the strike. Thanny had a cheerful appetite for 
“something going on,” and he did not realize the 
amount of trouble and suffering involved. 

“That Carlsen feller kept the upper hands to-day, 
I tell you ! He thinks he’s some to-night,” said Than- 
ny, excitedly. “ But I shouldn’t want to have to have 
so many ofiScers to keep order in my glass-works ! He 
telegraphed for Mr. Eawlins to come home, anyhow ; 
that shows he’s some scairt, don’t it ? And I tell you 
he’d better be, for some of them are desp’rate fellers. 


190 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANn” 


Some folks says that tlieir keepin’ so quiet to-day 
means that they’re up to some underhanded tricks. 
I hope Sandford folks are goin’ to sleep sound in 
their beds to-night; but — but I know what I’ve 
heard !” 

“ If you know of anything they’re going to do, 
Thanny, you ought to go right straight and tell the 
authorities,” said Jean, with decision. 

“ If I know anything ! It’s likely that them fellers 
would tell their affairs to me ! Why, they think I’m 
only a small shaver !” said Thanny, but with an ac- 
cent which expressed contempt for such an opinion. 

“ Thanny, was Dave Freneau really out all night ? 
I’m afraid it will kill him. I wonder Annette didn’t 
let us know,” said Robin. 

‘‘ She didn’t let anybody know till this morning. 
Gib Atkins, goin’ to work, came acrost her on the 
edge of the marsh ; she’d been wand’rin’ all night, 
and she acted as if she was half crazy. ‘ It was a 
wonder she hadn’t got into the bog,’ Gib said.” 

‘‘Quid Jack-o’-lanthern, the rash kill, -was afther 
leadin’ her asthray ! Sure it was great foolichtness 
to live there where he do be always flittin’ about, and 
it’s me own two eyes have seen him,” said Moira, 
with deep feeling. 

By this time they had reached the Freneau cottage, 
which was full of lights and voices. The wives and 
daughters of the men who were searching the marsh 
had come to bear Annette company. They had suc- 
ceeded in calming her, or else grief and anxiety had 
worn her out. She sat in a corner, her face wdiite 
and listless, and only her great black eyes seemed 
alive. She sprang up, however, at sight of Thanny. 


191 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

“ Where is he ? Have you bring him — your broth- 
er, that know all the marsh? All the way through 
the woods to Deepmouth they say he know. But my 
Dave have not gone so far ; he have not the strength ; 
the mire have drag him down and swallow him up !” 
She said it quietly, without a tear — Annette, whose 
tears were so ready on all occasions. “ He have not 
come ? Well, it will be too late when he do !” 

Bobin and Jean tried their best to cheer her. 

Adam is so intelligent, he would find the way 
back if — if anything had happened to Dave,” said 
Bobin. 

“ Dave and the monkey are friends ; where is one, 
there will be the other,” said Annette. 

The minutes dragged by heavily ; the little wooden 
clock, with the picture upon it of a red-cheeked lady 
and a yellow rose, droned them out grudgingly, while 
they listened for footsteps — Saul’s on the highway, 
or the men from the marsh, who might be bringing 
something. The women and girls began to take them- 
selves away. They were not unsympathetic, but they 
were the wives and daughters of workmen in the 
glass factory, and their minds were full of the strike 
and their own cares and troubles, the men were 
searching in the swamp, and they must look after 
their households. 

‘‘ Go ? How can you think of such a thing, Moira ?” 
said Bobin, severely, in answer to an anxious mutter- 
ing from Moira. “ Papa knows ; he will not worry.” 

It seemed an age before Saul came ; he had a lan- 
tern, and he went down into the marsh with but few 
questions. Thanny had gone on to Sandford, against 
Bobin’s earnest advice. He said, ‘‘As long as there 


192 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN 


5 > 


wasn’t anything that he could do, he might* as well 
find out what was goin’ on.” 

The October night was chilly, but the little wood 
fire on the hearth died out, and no one thought of 
replenishing it. 

“ If one could only do something ! If I could go 
down into the marsh and search !” cried Eobin, as the 
silence and suspense became unendurable. 

Jean thought longingly of the peaceful nursery at 
home, with the children drowsily saying their prayers 
and Banquo cheerfully washing liis face upon the 
hearth. 

Eobin threw open the door upon the back porch, 
and looked inquiringly at Annette. She wished that 
she would propose to go into the marsh. Anything 
was better than this endless waiting. 

“ She do be spint,” said Moira, arousing herself to 
sympathy, in spite of her expectation of being car- 
ried away bodily by “ ould Jack.” 

‘‘ Look ! look !” cried Eobin. “ The sky is all 
ablaze! The works — Sandford — the woods are all 
on fire !” 


CHAPTER XV 


The sky was indeed all ablaze, and tlie clang of 
fire-bells came to their ears as they hurried out, An- 
nette aroused from her apathy, and Moira trembling 
in every limb, and crying out that it was “ the end 
of the worruld.” 

‘‘ The woods are all on fire, and my Dave is there 
cried Annette, rushing out. Robin held her back. 

The fire has not reached the marsh yet, Annette, 
and the bog is so wet I don’t think it can get 
there,” she said. ‘‘And just hear the bells ! they are 
calling engines from everywhere ; they will put it 
out.” 

“ Who say my Dave is in the marsh ? I have go 
all over it, every inch, over and over I have go, and 
he is not there ; he is in the deep woods. He will be 
burned to death !” cried Annette, almost beside her- 
self. But she did not try again to go down into the 
swamp. Poor Annette ! her night of wandering and 
the long strain of suspense had worn her out utterly. 
She dropped down upon the door-step and crouched 
there, her head covered with her shawl. Old Moira 
sat down too, and rocked to and fro, raising a ban- 
shee wail. One of the men who had been searching 
for Dave came running through the yard on his way 
home. All the other men had gone home. Their 
wives and children and everything they had in the 

13 


194 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAKY ANN’’ 

world might be in danger. They must help to extin- 
guish the fire; that was their first duty, the man said. 

Meanwhile the air was full of the clanging of fire- 
bells; the wind brought the sound from distant 
towns, and echoes came up from the marsh. The 
smoke was rolling towards them in dense waves. 

‘‘The fire is reaching the marsh, Jean. We must 
do something, or I shall go crazy whispered Robin. 

“Every one has forgotten us,” whimpered Jean — 
“ Dave and us too ! This house will be on fire 
soon !” 

In fact, Jean was having occasion to doubt the wis- 
dom of wishing to go everywhere that any one went. 
She wondered if even Thanny wouldn’t find to-night 
that there was too much “ going on.” If one could 
help poor Dave, or be any comfort to Annette, it 
would be different ; but to sit there waiting while the 
fire came nearer and nearer was too much to endure. 
But even while Jean made her wail there was a beat- 
ing of horses’ hoofs on the road. In the blaze, which 
made everything as clear as day, they could distin- 
guish Duke Rawlins’s white pony. 

“Is it true that Dave Freneau is lost — is down in 
the marsh?” he shouted. “My father heard of it 
from Carlsen. He has sent Hick Piper and Collins 
down there.” 

Hick Piper was a sportsman who knew all the 
marshes and woods in the vicinity. 

“Cap’n Saul is there,” said Robin, “but it is a 
large place, and there are the woods ; no one knows 
how far he may have wandered.” 

“ Adam will always lead you a dance,” explained 
Jean. 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” * 195 

“Will the fire reach — reach the marsh?” asked 
Robin, in a voice that shook. 

“ God knows,” said Duke, reverently. “ There is 
the bog between, but we have had dry weather, and 
the wind carries the sparks. It’s an awful night’s 
work, whoever is responsible for it.” 

“ Is Sandford all on fire ?” asked Jean. 

“ The fire was set in the works, at the furnace end 
of the new building. They may try to say that it 
was a defective furnace, but every one will know that 
the responsibility lies at the door of the strikers, or 
of those who drove them to strike. There are two 
opinions about that ; of course, a boy’s isn’t of any 
account. Fortunately, the wind carried the fiames 
towards the woods, so they will save the town. Half 
a dozen houses near the works have burned, and as 
many more have been half ruined by water Of 
course there’s a panic, and people are pitching their 
goods recklessly into the street. I saw Thanny Ba- 
ker staggering under a load of pew-cushions from the 
church half a mile away from the fire.” 

“It’s like Thanny to help, anyway,” said Jean, 
stoutly defending her absent friend. “And I can’t 
help thinking that Cap’n Saul will find Dave. The 
Bakers are so dependable 

Duke shook his head doubtfully. “ So much de- 
pends upon chance or Providence, in a search like 
that,” he said. 

“ If we could only go ! It is terrible to wait here,” 
said Robin. “ And to think that he may have been 
overlooked not far away, or that the fire may be 
creeping upon him !” 

“Sure it’s crapin’ upon oursilves, Miss Robin, 


196 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN” 

darlint, and of wliat use for an ould woman and cliil- 
der to bide here said Moira, piteously. Moira was 
on her knees uttering pious ejaculations, when she 
was not calling upon every one to witness that she 
had always known the thricks iv ould Jack.” 

“You may go home if you like, Moira, you and 
Jean ; perhaps you would better. The fire may make 
papa alarmed about us,” said Kobin. “ I couldnH go.” 

But Moira steadfastly refused to desert Bobin. 
“ Sure it do be but a thrifle to have I roasted,” she 
said, with somewhat bitter resignation. 

Jean, who was in nowise resigned to being “roast- 
ed,” stood looking over her shoulder at the great roll- 
ing clouds of smoke, all ready for flight. 

“ I must go down there !” said Duke, desperately. 
“A fellow can’t always be thinking that one of his 
legs is shorter than the other, when he might save a 
fellow’s life. But you — you’re a girl.” 

“ I sha’n’t be in your way. I’m not — not just like 
other girls ; I’m used to rough things,” said Kobin, 
eagerly. 

“ Sure hersilf is a lady born and raired,” muttered 
Moira, indignantly, “ barrin’ oursilves is come to the 
quarest place, wid nothing at all but sand and a dale 
iv fish, and wan as good as anither.” 

“You are the mate of the Mary Ann^ you’re not 
an ordinary girl,” said Duke, ignoring Moira’s mut- 
terings. “ The smoke may drive us back, but we’ll 
try it.” 

“ Oh, musha, musha, that iver we seen the Cape !” 
wailed Moira. “ And Miss Kobin wid her sinses gone 
intoirely ; and it’s niver in a sand-hape that I thought 
to lay me ould bones !” 


19V 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

“ If you don’t keep still, I’ll go down into the 
marsh, too!” said Jean, whose temper was tottering 
by reason of sleepiness and the strain on her nerves. 

And Moira kept silence for a few minutes, watch- 
ing Robin and Duke as their figures, standing out 
clearly now, and now obscured as the firelight was 
hidden by smoke, were making their way down into 
the underbrush. 

Is it bit tilings loike ye that ’ll foind the b’y, whin 
the hunthers can’t?” she called after them, scorn- 
fully. “ The monkey is that wise ye’d think he’d 
bring home the foolicht b’y. Thim foreigners 1 Our- 
silves is kilt wid ’em !” 

There was no fear of Annette’s temper now ; she 
seemed entirely oblivious of Moira’s complaints. 

“ Jist to think of hersilf go’n down there in the 
night her lone, but for the lame b’}^, and the loikes 
iv me sittin’ here ; but, the saints presarve us 1 me 
ould legs do be spint intoirely !” 

Robin and Duke made their way with but little 
more difficulty than if it were daylight, until they 
were in the depths of the marsh. The heat of the 
fire was oppressive, and now and then a great cloud of 
smoke darkened the sky and made breathing difficult. 

“ He can’t be here in the marsh ; there is less tan- 
gle of underbrush than I thought. He would cer- 
tainly have been found,” said Duke, stopping short 
suddenly. 

‘‘ Adam has a great fondness for tall trees,” said 
Robin. ‘‘As long as one followed and tried to catch 
him he would go on. We used to turn back, and 
then he would follow us. But perhaps Dave didn’t 
know that.” 


198 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANn” 

They had come to the edge of the bog, the “hon- 
ey-pot,” which intervened between the marsh and 
the great stretch of woodland which extended for 
many miles down the Cape, fringing its sandy 
shore. 

“ Could he have crossed this bog ?” said Duke, in 
perplexity. 

“ Yes, on the old road, around the edge. We drive 
over it sometimes,” said Robin. 

Duke looked at her and hesitated. A great cloud 
of smoke suddenly enveloped them in darkness. 

“ Oh, can’t we go ? It will flame up again as light 
as day,” said Robin. 

There was a great burst of flame even before the 
words were spoken, but it showed them such a curious 
sight that even the object of their search was for a 
moment forgotten. The bog was full of small rush- 
ing shapes ; whirring wings struck Robin almost in 
the face. 

“ The wild creatures from the woods !” exclaimed 
Duke. “I have heard that they came out like that 
when there was a forest Are, but I never thought it 
could be such a sight as that ! Look ! look ! there’s 
a deer !” 

Robin saw a wild rushing thing — like wind made 
into a shape, she afterwards explained to Jean — a 
beautiful, antlered head. 

“ I didn’t really believe that there were still deer 
in those Deepmouth Woods, although I had heard 
people say so. That fellow must have come a long 
■W'ay. I’m afraid it’s a sign that the fire is spreading 
down towards Deepmouth, though they started to 
fight it in that direction at the first alarm. How 


199 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANn” 

queer to have a fire warden and to pay so inucli an 
hour for fighting fire !” 

‘‘Thanny is in that business by this time,” said 
Robin, sagely. 

‘‘And half the strikers, if I know them,” said 
Duke. “ When once the instinct of thrift gets the 
upperhand, all is safe. They’ll forget that they 
wanted to shoot the foreign workmen and hang Carl- 
sen in their zeal to save the forests and get the fire 
money. They were only a few scamps who set the 
fire, you know.” 

“ See, the wood is full of the animals 1 It is like 
the opening of Noah’s Ark,” said Robin. “Those 
were rabbits that scampered almost under my feet. 
And that was a creature whose tail was the most of 
him — it must have been a fox. And — oh, it’s grow- 
ing dark again !” Robin hung back a little. The 
darkness, with the scurrying shapes all around, was 
trying to one’s nerves. 

“ The creatures are harmless ; they’re terror-strick- 
en, poor things ; all they want is to get out of the 
way. And the fire will fiame up again — only too 
soon. But it seems to me that the bog may stop it, 
it is very wet. This that you call a road is wet, and 
the wind is not blowing so hard.” 

“We didn’t see any of these wild things in the 
marsh,” said Robin, jumping quickly aside as another 
creature, “ whose tail was the most of him,” rushed 
by. One might be the mate of the Mary Ann and 
a strong-minded house-keeper, and all that, without 
liking to have rabbits and foxes and all sorts of creat- 
ures, perhaps even wild -cats, scurrying by one in 
semi-darkness ! 


200 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN ” 

“ They’ll keep in the open ; you won’t catch any 
of them near any tiling that is like woods to-night,” 
said Duke, wisely. “If the animals in the marsh 
haven’t taken the alarm, they will soon.” 

“ Hark ! what a queer noise that one is making, 
and the others are so still,” said Kobin. 

They were about midway along the old honey-pot 
road, which led to the woods, and the smoke w’as 
making a dense darkness about them. 

“ Listen a moment !” said Kobin ; for the queer 
noise had ceased, or been lost in mingling with the 
other strange noises of the night. 

It rose again, a half-plaintive, half-angry little cry, 
with something like a human tone in it. 

“ It is — it surely is — a monkey !” cried Kobin. 

“And there can’t be monkeys even in Deepmouth 
Woods,” said Duke. 

“ If it would only flame up ! Of course I don’t 
want the fire to last, but just once!” cried Kobin. 
And then she called Adam, coaxingly, commanding- 
ly, threateningly ; and from somewhere out of the 
darkness, with a suddenness which made her scream, 
onto her shoulder leaped Adam. 

“ Dave can’t be far away. The monkey was fond 
of him ; he wouldn’t leave him ! Oh, Adam, where 
is he, where is he !” cried Kobin. 

But Adam only scolded and chattered, in his utterly 
unintelligible fashion. 

“We must go on a little farther ; he may be in the 
woods, but where we can reach him.” 

Kobin shrank back a little; they could hear the 
roaring of the fire now like the roaring of the sea, and 
the air was hot in their faces, but she followed Duke. 


201 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN ” 

The monkey sprang from her slionlder, with what 
sounded like an angry protest. It was very wet and 
swampy land into which he darted, but both Duke 
and Robin plunged after him unhesitatingly. A burst 
of flame through the smoke-cloud showed them the 
monkey’s queer little lean shape, perched upon the 
great whitened stump of a tree, which had been blast- 
ed by lightning or by the fierce winter winds. 

He’s here ! Dave is here !” cried Robin. “ But, 
oh. I’m afraid he’s dead !” 

The boy was lying at the foot of the stump, and 
his face looked ghastly in the lurid light of the fire. 

“He isn’t,” said Duke, hurriedly feeling his pulse 
and his heart. “But he will be, and we, too, if we 
don’t get out of this suffocating place !” 

“ Oh, I’m so thankful ! If he had been only a little 
farther off !” Robin looked with a shudder towards 
the blazing woods, from which sometimes the fire 
seemed sweeping upon them with terrible speed. 

“But how are we to carry him?” said Duke, in a 
tone of greatest perplexity. 

Robin, looking at him, was startled to see how 
white his own face was. 

“ How could I forget ! It must have hurt you 
dreadfully to walk so far — over the rough ground 
and through the mire,” she said. 

“It hurts a fellow worst of all to have to cave 
in — not to be able to do what a girl can!” said 
Duke. “But that’s foolish. I’m afraid I am about 
used up.” 

He put his hands up to his mouth, after a mys- 
terious boy -fashion, and a whistle rang out that 
aroused all the echoes. 


202 


THE MATE OF THE MARY AJSTN ” 

“If I could get either of those men here, Cap’n 
Saul, or Nick Piper, or Collins!” 

He whistled again and again, but there was no 
response except from the echoes. 

“Couldn’t we make a chair?” suggested Pobin, 
placing her hands after the old nursery fashion. “I 
am strong ; you could let him lean to my side. Oh, 
I am very strong ; you don’t know what muscles I 
have from rowing and sailing and house -work and 
all that!” 

“ If there were any one to lift him into the chair,” 
said Duke, who had been trying in vain to arouse 
Dave to consciousness. “We must do something 
soon. We can’t breathe here long.” 

He whistled again, whistled and shouted with might 
and main, with no more result than before. 

“ If the smoke grows any thicker we can’t see our 
w’ay at all,” said Robin. “ Can’t we put our hands 
under him and lift him so ?” 

They succeeded in lifting him after several efforts. 
Dave was not heavy, but his height made him an un- 
wieldy burden. If he had had sufficient conscious- 
ness to help himself it would have been compara- 
tively easy, but he was limp and apparently almost 
lifeless, and the coldness of his hands made Robin 
shudder. 

Adam added his small weight to the burden by 
perching upon Dave’s shoulder, and utterly refusing 
to be driven away. 

They staggered along under their burden until they 
had almost reached the marsh. It was less difficult 
to breathe now, and the walking would soon be com- 
paratively easy. Robin’s heart liad begun to beat 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN 


203 


liigli with hope, when Duke suddenly lurched for- 
ward upon his knees, allowing Dave’s form to sway 
over onto him, but not relinquishing his hold of 
Robin’s wrists, by which the “ chair ” was formed. 

I couldn’t do any other way. I knew that I was 
going, and I tried to save him. It isn’t a sprain, you 
know ; my leg just gave out, that’s all. How it must 
hurt you to crouch like that ! You’ll have to just 
let him go — softly,” 

Robin endured the strained position for a moment 
or two longer, and then was forced to unclasp her 
hands. She wished that she had done it sooner for 
Duke’s sake, for, relieved of the burden of Dave’s 
weight, he fell forward half fainting. 

“I shall be better, all right, you know, in a min- 
ute,” he gasped. “ It hurt, that’s all.” 

Thoroughly frightened, Robin set up a ciy that 
made the woods ring. There was an answering shout, 
oh, joy ! not far away. 

“ Holler again, so’s’t I can tell jest where you be ! 
Holler lively shouted the voice, Cap’n Saul’s voice, 
the most delightful sound, thought Robin, that had 
ever greeted her ears. 

“ This way ! This way ! He’s found, found !” she 
shouted. 

Cap’n Saul came floundering straight through the 
bog, and not far behind him was Collins, Mr. Raw- 
lins’s coachman. 

“Found ! well, I should say you had found a pair 
on ’em!” exclaimed Cap’n Saul at sight of the mo- 
tionless flgures. 

“There’s nothing the matter with me,” asserted 
Duke. “ Not much — that is, only my leg gave out.” 


204 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ’’ 

If it ain’t that slim young Rawlins feller ! IIow 
in the name of common-sense he ’n’ a gal come to find 
what a whole gang of men couldn’t beats me ! But 
you see we was all so ’fraid of his gettin’ burnt to 
death that we put straight for the woods. I ex- 
pect now you come acrost him right here in the 
marsh. You never fetched him over the old road? 
Well, ’tain’t no wonder that slim little feller’s give 
out.” 

“ I’m not slim, you know ; I’m only lame,” ex- 
plained Duke, not without a touch of resentment. 

‘^You ain’t slim in your grit anyhow, nor nothin’ 
like it,” responded Cap’n Saul, heartily. “ I declare 
if this feller ’ain’t got a good strong pulse, though 
you wouldn’t think he was hardly alive,” he added, 
after an anxious examination of Dave. “I should 
like to know what happened to him. He couldn’t 
have got lost so nigh home, ’pears to me, even if he 
is kinder lackin’. And the monkey stuck to him ! 
Kinder cur’us, wa’n’t it ?” 

“We might not have found him. We shouldn’t 
have thought of looking in that place if it hadn’t 
been for Adam,” said Robin. “ And he knew my 
voice *, he wouldn’t have come to every one.” 

“’Twa’n’t a mite too soon, neither,” said Cap’n 
Saul. “When I heard that whistle I was just thinkin’ 
that nobody couldn’t stay in them woods many min- 
utes more. Piper he cleared out acrost the crick. 
Well, I always did say monkeys was unprofitable 
creturs, but — ” 

Cap’n Saul had gone on, with Dave in his strong 
arms, and his present opinion of monkeys was lost. 
Collins carried Duke, and Robin stumbled on behind, 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 


205 


JJ 


footsore and almost exhausted, but feeling herself in 
a triumphal procession. 

The little waiting group was still waiting, although 
Jean was almost hysterical and Moira w’ailing. 

“ You needn’t have been afraid ; the fire can’t cross 
that bog,” said Cap’n Saul. “ But them that’s come 
up out of that old road has had a close call.” 

Annette seemed almost senseless, but she screamed 
at sight of Dave. Nothing would persuade her that 
lie was not dead. 

After vainly trying to carry Duke home on horse- 
back, tlie strained position causing him unendurable 
pain, Collins rode off post-haste in search of the doc- 
tor, and of a conveyance for Duke. 

It was long before the doctor came, but under 
Cap’n Saul’s skilful manipulations and Moira’s un- 
tiring lieating of bricks and blankets Dave was re- 
stored to consciousness. 

It was daylight before he opened his eyes, a day- 
light obscured by a pall of smoke which the sun’s 
rays could scarcely pierce. 

‘‘ Look out for the bottles, Ken. Don’t go to 
throwing things into the cabin. That’s precious 
stuff, you know,” he cried. 

‘‘He thinks he is on board the Soud — just before 
he was hurt. He remembers !” cried Robin. 


CHAPTEE XVI 


“ Dave remembers ! He remembers !” cried Hob- 
in, joyfully. 

“ My Dave is himself awaked !” exclaimed An- 
nette, with a radiant face. Her joy was somewhat 
dampened when he immediately dropped away again, 
apparently as unconscious as before ; but Cap’n Saul 
assured her that this was the unconsciousness of a 
deep, refreshing sleep, which would do much towards 
restoring him to health. 

‘‘ How is it that he remembers now, and not be- 
fore?” asked Annette, in perplexity. 

‘‘ There ain’t no accountin’ for the freaks of folks’ 
memory when they get a knock on the head,” said 
Cap’n Saul. ‘‘I see a feller that had got a knock like 
that in a Liverpool hospital once ; he never knew 
who he was or where he come from till he liad a fe- 
ver, then he jest come to as nat’ral as life. I expect 
it’s some like the man that jumped into the bramble- 
bush.” 

They had discovered that Dave’s ankle was badly 
sprained, and swollen to twice its natural size. Doubt- 
less this accident had befallen him while pursuing 
the monkey in one of his wild flights ; and calling for 
help being all in vain in that remote place, exposure 
and pain and exhaustion had at length rendered him 
insensible. Duke was lying, in greater pain than he 


207 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

would acknowledge, on the little broken -springed 
lounge, but when Collins came with the carriage, 
after what seemed an endless delay, he insisted that 
it should first be used to carry Robin and Jean and 
Moira home. 

Jean alighted at her own door with a stern resolve 
never to want to go everywhere any more, and Moira 
loudly expressed her hope that they might “ bide 
paceful far from foires and sthroikes.” They found 
that the household had slept peacefully, knowing 
nothing of the fire until morning had shown them 
the heavy pall of smoke which overhung even the 
bluffs and the sea. 

Robin’s father placed his hand upon her head and 
called her “his brave girl,” and after that Robin 
didn’t mind that her mother said that “ even when 
she was Robin’s age she had understood the proprie- 
ties of life.” 

Before Robin slept she wrote a letter to Ken. She 
was almost exhausted, and she found it difficult to 
write to Ken now ; but she wrote “ Dave remem- 
bers,” with an account of his accident and what he 
had said. Ken must get his vacation now, she 
thought; he would be too impatient to wait. At 
noon of that day Thanny appeared, toiling up the 
hill from the marsh road — a wayworn little pilgrim as 
black as a chimney-sweep. Jean espied him first and 
called Robin, and they both ran out to hear his ad- 
ventures, Robin delaying only to get a cup of coffee, 
for Thanny was evidently what Moira expressively 
described as “ spint.” Moira followed with a great 
piece of gingerbread, fresh from the oven, which she 
was obliged to feed to him, as Thanny, though eying 


208 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN 

it ravenously, justly maintained that he “hadn’t no 
hands to touch nice victuals with.” 

“I’ve fit fire stiddy — eleven hours fire-money!” 
explained Thanny between his mouthfuls, as he sat 
upon the grass, surrounded by his devoted friends. 
“ Saul couldn’t expect a feller to go to school after 
that, could he? And ’twas you and Duke Rawlins 
that found the French boy, wa’n’t it? I tell you, 
there’s been kind of lively times, ain’t there ? And 
I helped a lot of folks to save their furniture, too. 
If the wind had blew jest a little mite dif’runt there 
wouldn’t have been notliin’ left of Sandford. And 
I come orful near lickin’ a feller, too.” 

“ Oh, Thanny !” said Robin, reproachfully. 

“ I guess if you knew !” said Thanny, with depths 
of meaning in his tone. “ I wouldn’t care if he was 
a man, if I’d been there and heard him I’d have 
pitched into him. Would you let anybody say that 
your friends was thieves, and stole a watch, without 
pitchin’ into him ?” 

“ Who stole a watch ? What are you talking 
about ?” said Jean. 

As for Robin, she could feel the blood rushing to 
her temples, and her heart seemed to be beating in 
her ears. 

Thanny fortified himself with a long draught of 
coffee and a great, deliberate bite of gingerbread, 
which Jean now held, since Moira had been obliged 
to return to her work. “ Of course nobody cares 
what that feller says, and he knew he’d get dis- 
charged. They held a meetin’ — the union folks, the 
sensible ones, you know — with Mr. Rawlins and Mr. 
Hallett, right in the room where he was sick. Carl- 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN 


209 


5 ? 


sen had heard they was goin’ to, and he wa’n’t asked 
to it, and he knew his time was np. That’s how he 
dared to sarse Duke Eawlins like that. I jest wisht 
I’d been there !” 

‘‘ Thanny, what do you mean ? Carlsen didn’t ac- 
cuse Duke Eawlins of stealing?’’ demanded Jean, 
impatiently. 

He met him this mornin’ when Collins’ was car- 
ry in’ him home in the carriage, and he called him a 
little sneakin’, white-livered meddler, mixin’ with the 
workmen, and keepin’ the lowest comp’ny he could 
find, and he said — ’twouldn’t hurt your feelin’s none, 
now, would it, Miss Eobin, to be lied about by such 
a low-lived feller as that ? — he said his friends Ken 
and Eobin Dinsmore wa’n’t above stealin’ a watch 
and lettin’ an innercent feller like Jo Wilkes suffer 
for it ! And he said you had helped Jo Wilkes to 
get off out of the way, and he was knowin’ to it, and 
lie could have had you took up! Now I’ll tell you 
jest what it all means,” added sagacious Thanny, 
after another refreshing pull at the coffee. It got 
out somehow that them fellers expected to have the 
Mary Ann that night, and I don’ know but what 
they come up and got her and brought her back 
again; for jest as sure as I’m a livin’ sinner she 
wa’n’t layin’ at that slip when I went acrost that 
night. And that Carlsen hatched up that lie with 
jest that much to start on !” 

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. Such a ridiculous 
story !” said Jean. “ Fancy Ken and Eobin stealing ! 
Of course no one would listen to it for a moment. I 
think Duke was foolish to be annoyed. Why, Eobin, 
you look as if you really minded. You’re quite white.” 

14 


210 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ” 

‘‘ Well, it ain’t so very polite, now,’’ said Thanny. 
‘‘’Tain’t real compliment’ry. And lies are always 
rilin’. He called Duke Rawlins a sight of names, too, 
and Steve Prettygo, that was listenin’, he said Duke 
was jest as white as a sheet. Collins threatened to 
run over him if he didn’t clear out. lie’s cleared out 
now, bag and baggage ! He was afraid to wuiit for 
the train, for the men was threatenin’ to hustle him !” 

“ Has he really gone ?” asked Robin, doubtfully. 

“ Of course he has ; that was part of the ’greement 
that the union made with Hallett & Rawlins, that he 
should be discharged, and the men are coming back 
at the same prices, but with the old hours that they 
had before Carlsen came — all of ’em, jest as soon as 
the new works are ready. And they’ve arrested the 
men that set the fire. The workmen themselves 
helped to track ’em, and the foreigners are goin’ to 
be paid for their trouble, and Mr. Rawlins is goin’ to 
find work for ’em in Hew York. And — and I’ve 
got my fire-money. And they put it out down by 
the crick at four o’clock this rnornin’, and it never 
crossed the honey-pot at all. And they’re goin’ to be 
built right up in a jiffy, better’n they were before — 
the works, I mean. And they saved the old build- 
ings, you know. And — and so it’s all right, only 
Duke Rawlins is pretty sick, they say ; they had two 
doctors as soon as he got home.” 

knew he felt awfully when he was lying on 
that old lounge this morning, though he wouldn’t 
own it,’’ said Jean. ‘‘ What he went through last 
night was enough to kill any one as delicate as he ! 
Well, Peggy is likely to have nursing enough to do 
in her own family !” 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANn” 


211 


“ Oh, Jean, don’t talk as if Duke were going to 
die,” cried Robin. “Everything seems to be turning 
out so — so dreadfully.” 

“ I thought everything was turning out very well, 
except that Duke is ill,” said Jean. “The strike 
seems to be ended, and Dave Freneau is coming to 
his senses, and the fire didn’t do as much damage as 
was expected, and — it isn’t possible that you really 
care about the silly things that Carlsen said about 
you and Ken ? It isn’t as if it were a probable story 1 
I should never think of it twice.” 

“ I tell you what, I’m goin’ to get at the bottom 
of that story about the Mary Ann. The bottom 
fac’s are what you want, as Saul says. And you see 
there must be something to it, ’cause where did that 
boat go to? There ain’t many things that I can’t 
find out when I set out to.” Thanny wagged his 
small, begrimed head sagaciously. 

“ Oh, Thanny,” began Robin, but her voice failed. 
How could she make any reasonable objection to 
Thanny’s exercising his bump of curiosity about the 
boat? She must be careful not to let even Thanny 
suspect. And so Thanny trudged away unhindered, 
with his inner man much refreshed, but his muscles 
so cramped and stiffened that he walked like a little 
old man. 

Robin went down to Quansett that afternoon ; there 
were some errands at the stores, and, moreover, she 
felt a feverish desire to know what people were say- 
ing about Carlsen and the story he had told. Every 
one would have heard it, for Steve Prettygo’s shop 
was a rendezvous for gossips. Fortunately Jean, for 
once, did not wish to go, being thoroughly tired out. 


212 THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

Every one stared at Kobin, even the few belated vis- 
itors at the hotel; or did she only imagine it? The 
strike and the fire and the rebuilding of the fiint-glass 
factory were the chief topics of conversation ; she 
heard Carlsen’s name mentioned, but it was coupled 
with very uncomplimentary adjectives. Jean was 
right; it was a silly story to which no one would 
listen. And what if Thanny did spread abroad the 
story that in the night those men who helped Jo 
Wilkes to escape had carried off the Mary Ann? 
It was a plausible way to account for Carlsen’s slan- 
der, and the men would never confess their share in 
the matter for the sake of denying that they stole the 
Mary Ann. The way of the transgressor was hard, 
but every one would call Carlsen’s story foolish and 
improbable, and talk about it would die away. 

“ There never was so much smoke without some 
fire ; and, anyhow, the minister had ought to know it.” 

‘‘ Ilallett is lookin’ into it. He’s the one to tell 
the minister.” 

Robin heard this as she was going into Mr. Sears’s 
store. There was a sudden hush in the group of men 
and boys about the door as they saw her. She went 
by them conscious that her cheeks were blazing. 
How queerly Mr. Sears looked at her! and she could 
scarcely command her voice sufficiently to make her 
errand known. 

People believed it ! they would tell her father — 
her father, who was so happy in the good reports 
that came from Ken, and whose earthly hopes seemed 
now centred in him. It was Solomon Gross who had 
said that “Mr. Hallett was looking into it, and he 
was the one to tell the minister” — Solomon Gross, 



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213 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

who was sober-minded and not given to light gossip, 
and had always been a good friend to Ken and her. 
Mr. Hallett was a straightforward man, with a taste, 
like Cap’n Saul, for bottom facts. He would be very 
likely to go to her father with the report. Her father 
had been more feeble than usual of late, and the 
doctor had said long ago that he must have nothing 
to agitate him, or he would not answer for the conse- 
quences. 

In some way she must hinder the report from 
reaching her father’s ears *, but how ? It was terri- 
rible to tell any one what Ken had done. She might 
write to Ken and urge him to confess, but that would 
involve delay ; and then Ken was peculiar and obsti- 
nate ; since he had been capable of doing it, he might 
be capable of denying it now, when confession would 
ruin all the prospects which were opening before 
him. And when they questioned her she could not 
deny; she had been able to act a lie in seeing Jo 
Wilkes wrongfully accused, but to the deliberate 
falsehood, which, perhaps, after all, was not so much 
worse, she knew herself unequal. 

“ I am weak — weak !” said poor Kobin to herself, 
‘‘ I could neither tell the truth for him, nor a lie !” 

If only Duke Kawlins were not too ill, she thought, 
she could tell him. He was such a good friend ; he 
would find some way to keep the truth from her fa- 
ther’s ears. At length she decided to go to Martha 
Hallett, carrying the money to pay for the watch. 
Martha was friendly and kind-hearted, she thought, 
although she was so frivolous. And she was not with- 
out shrewdness ; she might find a way to satisfy her 
father’s suspicions without betraying Ken. At least 


214 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 

she could persuade him not to tell her father. And 
to have the watch paid for would make a little differ- 
ence, it seemed to her, although all were known. 
She was so weary, physically, that it was impossible 
to go to Sandford that afternoon, but the next morn- 
ing, early, she set out with the roll of bills in her 
pocket — the precious cranberry money, which was 
to set right, so far as it could, the wrong of which 
Ken had been guilty. 

Both Julia and Martha espied her from afar, and 
ran to meet her; they had evidently just come from 
the breakfast -table, for Julia had a napkin in her 
hand. 

So lovely of you to come over so early !” cried 
Martha, and Julia echoed the sentiment “ Oh, and 
I’ve such a piece of news!” continued Martha. “I’m 
really going to get rid of her for good ! Uncle Am- 
brose Gifford is really attentive to her ! He comes 
every Tuesday evening, and it’s always a sign of 
something particular to go to see a lady always on 
the same day of the week — at least for an old bach- 
elor 1 I asked Miss Ferris if it wasn’t, and you should 
have seen how furiously she blushed 1 She wouldn’t 
have cut off her locks to piece out my burned bangs ! 
And, oh ! we’re really to go to Hew York this win- 
ter, for a month or two, anyway ; and without any 
governess it will be just the same as if we were out!” 

“And the strike?” said Eobin, trying feebly to 
stem the current. 

“Oh, it’s over; but wasn’t it dreadful? We 
thought we should be burned to death ; every one 
thought they would set this house on fire. And it 
will be so late before we can go to Hew York ! Papa 


215 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAEY ANN ” 

will have to see to the new buildings ; he won’t trust 
any one.” 

“ Carlsen is gone,” announced Julia, “and every 
one is glad. And Duke Eawlins is very sick.” 

“ Carlsen wasn’t so very bad,” said Martha, reflect- 
ively. “ He was very obliging to me about — about 
getting Jo Wilkes off when I didn’t want to go to 
court. They say he was dreadfully rude to Duke 
Rawlins, but, dear me ! those two were alwaj^s hav- 
ing it. I don’t think a boy like him has any business 
to meddle.” 

It was evident that they had not heard just what 
Carlsen had said to Duke Rawlins. 

“Martha, can I speak to you alone for a moment?” 
said Robin. How difficult it was going to be to break 
into Martha’s frivolous chatter with a revelation like 
that ! 

“To Martha alone? Well, I must say it doesn’t 
seem very friendly, when I’ve always thought so 
much of you, Robin !” There were symptoms of 
tears in Julia’s voice. “And people always keep 
secrets from me ; but, of course, you have a right to 
like her best if you want to.” 

“It hasn’t anything to do with liking, Julia,” said 
Robin, patiently. “It is only something very pri- 
vate.” 

“ Oh, of course, if you don’t want me to hear,” 
said Julia, in an aggrieved tone, and walked away. 

“ Oh, Robin, is it a surprise for Ju ? or a party at 
your house? Such a delightful house as it used to 
be for parties !” said Martha, dancing along the drive- 
way backward before Robin in her eagerness. 

“ It isn’t in the least like that, Martha,” said Robin, 


216 


THE MATE OF THE MAKY ANN ” 


and her distressed face brought Martlia’s dancing to 
a sudden end. 

“ I hope it isn’t anything very bad,” she said. I 
do love a bit of privacy, especially if Ju isn’t to know 
anything about it.” 

She led the way into the library, and shut the dooi*s 
carefully. 

“ There’s no one about, anyway,” she said. Papa 
goes down to the works directly after breakfast, and 
grandma is sitting with mamma, who is in bed with 
a headache, and Miss Ferris — don’t you tell, but Miss 
Ferris is priming herself in algebra ; she has to before 
lesson hours. She has a key ; I found it hidden un- 
der everything in her desk ; and now 1 use it before 
she does. So it’s a convenience to both of us, you 
see.” 

Robin’s wide-open eyes looked an astonished re- 
proof, and then they fell suddenly. Surely she had 
no right even to look reproof at any one. She thrust 
the roll of bank-bills into Martha’s hands. 

“ Oh, Martha, you will take it to pay for the watch, 
and not let your father know, and not let people say 
it was Ken ! It was, Martha — it was Ken, and not 
Jo Wilkes. lie picked it up and — and kept it, be- 
cause he had no money to go away with. He meant 
to pay for it right away, but, poor Ken ! with a boy’s 
wages, and we could send him nothing, and I tried, 
too ; and then after I got the cranberry money and 
could pay, I was afraid you would find out. It 
seemed too dreadful to have people know that it was 
Ken, and it will kill my father if he ever hears it — 
it will kill him, Martha !” Robin’s voice grew high 
and shrill in her excitement. “ Of course it was dread- 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 217 

ful to let Jo Wilkes be suspected wrongfully, but af- 
ter he got away it seemed as if it — it might not hurt 
him so much.” 

Why, of course, a person like Jo Wilkes, it can’t 
matter much to him,” said Martha. She leaned upon 
the arm of E-obin’s chair, nervously clasping and un- 
clasping her hands. “ I can’t understand. You don’t 
mean, Eobin, that Ken would — would keep a watch ! 
1 don’t see how you can think such a thing of your 
own brother.” There was a touch of real indignation 
in Martha’s tone. 

‘‘But, Martha, he did. You don’t know what it is 
not to have any money. And he meant to pay — 
you’ll believe that he meant to pay ? And I was so 
thankful when Jo Wilkes got away ! I helped him 
a little. I lent the Mary Ann^ and Carlsen found 
it out. He saw me coming from Gridiron Cove, and 
there was where he found the ribbon that his little 
girl brought me the day of the lawn party. Don’t 
you remember the checked hair ribbon ? He suspect- 
ed before, because I said that Jo Wilkes wasn’t guilty. 
Don’t you remember that day in the works when 
Dave Freneau made the lamp shade? The rest of 
you didn’t think anything of what I said, but he did. 
And he told Duke Eawlins. Steve Prettygo heard ; 
every one knows. Oh, Martha, won’t you say that 
it’s paid for? Try to keep people from talking? 
Help me to keep it from my father?” 

“Will every one know? What will they know? 
You talk so fast, Eobin, that I can’t understand you. 
Of course Ken didn’t. Oh, I wish you wouldn’t 
make such a fuss ! Pm sure I had trouble enough 
about it ! I did hope there was an end of it when 


218 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

Jo Wilkes got away! But you must have had a 
dreadful time!” Martha’s peevish tone suddenly 
showed a touch of sympathy. “But I don’t see 
how you could — Wait a minute and let me think, 
Robin ; you do talk so fast !” 

“ I am sorry to be a listener, and sorry to see a lit- 
tle girl in such trouble.” At the sound of the grave 
voice Robin sprang to her feet, and Martha screamed 
“ Papa !” with an accent of terror. Mr. Hallett had 
parted the portiere which divided his den from the 
library, and stood calmly holding back its folds. 
“ But I can’t possibly allow my daughter to be per- 
suaded to promise to keep anything from her father, 
especially anything that seems so important as that. 
If a wrong has been done, an innocent person ac- 
cused, and the guilty one allowed to escape, the 
wrong must be righted at any cost.” 

“ Oh, what have I done ? Why did I come ?” 
cried Robin, wildly. “ 1 have ruined Ken, and I 
have killed papa! Oh, why did I come?” 

And then she dropped back into the luxurious 
depths of the yellow satin arm-chair — even the libra- 
ry in the Hallett house glowed with yellow satin — 
and fainted for the first time in her healthy young 
life. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Mr. Hallett was very kind, and Martha was half 
sobbing when Robin came to herself, with Miss Fer- 
ris’s pungent vinaigrette, which Martha had brought 
in haste, almost strangling her. She was still pro- 
testing piteously that she had ruined Ken and killed 
her father, but Mr. Hallett assured her that he had 
heard the reports, and should have felt obliged to in- 
vestigate them, so her coming had made no difference. 

“You won’t, oh, Mr. Hallett, you won’t let papa 
hear of it ?” said Robin. 

Mr. Hallett hesitated ; he might have a kind man- 
ner, but he evidently had no intention of changing 
his purpose because a girl had fainted. 

“ I certainly shall not tell him while he is sick,” 
he said at length ; “though I think that the best thing 
for a boy, under such circumstances, is to have his 
father told. I must look up Jo Wilkes, and see that 
he doesn’t suffer from the unjust arrest. That is no 
more than right, and — and it doesn’t do for a firm to 
get the reputation of treating its workmen unjust- 
ly.” Good Mr. Hallett honestly wished to right Jo 
Wilkes’s wrongs, but he was also interested in the 
effect of the affair upon the firm of Hallett & Raw- 
lins. Poor Robin, who felt herself such an expe- 
rienced person, was getting her first lesson of the 
world. “Ho, no, my dear; we shouldn’t take your 


220 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

money, of course. If the young man himself should 
wish to pay for it, that would be another matter,’’ 
said Mr. Hallett. 

Kobin went away but little consoled, altbougb 
Martha had followed her to the gate, assuring her 
that it would “all die out, just as it had about Jo 
AVilkes.” “But papa is dreadful,” said Martha, still 
on the verge of tears. “ You don’t blame me now 
for being afraid of him, do you ? But he will be 
careful not to let your father know ; and oh, Bobin, 
don’t blame me for — for letting him overhear ! I 
never thought he could be in his den, because he al- 
ways does go to the works directly after breakfast.” 

“ It didn’t matter ; he knew already,” said Bobin, 
hopelessly, as she went away. 

Annette ran out and called to her as she was going 
by. She was half hysterical with delight, for once. 
Dave had come back ; he was no longer “ the strange 
boy who kept shaking his head at her.” Bobin tried 
to forget her own troubles and rejoice with her ; but 
probably she was not very successful, for as Annette 
watched her retreating figure she tapped her fore- 
head significantly : 

“ It appear as if anoder one have lose hisself. Oh, 
I hope not her who have been so good !” 

There came a report the next day that Duke Baw- 
lins was dangerously ill ; fever had followed his nerv- 
ous prostration, and for a time his life was despaired 
of ; after the crisis was past he had a relapse, and 
there were conflicting reports of fear and hope. 

“ I think it’s very queer that you don’t even go 
over to inquire, you who are such friends with them,” 
said Jean, wondering at Bobin’s silence and apathy. 


221 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MAKY ANN ” 

“I have no right to go,” said Kobin to herself. 
“ They have heard, too, and they wouldn’t speak to 
me. And I was to blame for it all ; if Duke dies I 
shall be to blame, for if I had told the truth, and Jo 
Wilkes had been released at once, the strike might 
never have happened.” 

The days dragged by, and Kobin grew so nerv- 
ous that she started at every slightest sound, and suf- 
fered an agony of suspense when her father had a 
visitor. She was even guilty of listening for a min- 
ute or two, once, when it was the benign old Meth- 
odist minister of Sandford, who was a great friend of 
her father ; to tell the truth, she listened twice, he 
stayed so long. The door was ajar, and it didn’t 
seem quite so dishonorable as if it bad been shut. 
Once they were discussing Jonah, and the next time 
the currency question, and Kobin drew a long breath 
of relief as she stole away. 

Jean, who went now to the Sandford High-school, 
seemed to hear nothing of the suspicions and rumors 
with which Sandford must be rife ; but then Jean 
had a happy faculty of hearing pleasant things sooner 
than disagreeable ones ; and Jean had two new dresses 
and plenty of ribbons from the ‘‘ cranberry money.” 

The Hallett girls seemed to avoid Kobin, and it 
was no wonder, she thought, bitterly. Julia told her 
one day, when they met by accident, that Martlia 
wa.'’ not at all well. 

“ S'..e’s only fretting to go to Hew York, I think,” 
Julia said. “ Martha wants to be too grown up ; she 
isn’t so old as I am, if people do tell her things that 
they won’t tell me.” 

The ‘^privacy” seemed to be rankling in Julia’s 


222 


THE MATE OF TIIE “ MARY ANN ” 


mind, which was strange, Eobiii thought, since she 
probably knew what it was. 

But the fact was that J ulia did not know, Martha 
having developed an unusual reticence. 

Martha rushed up to Robin one day and put her 
arms round her. “ Oh, don’t look like that, Robin !” 
she exclaimed. It won’t come to anything, not a 
thing ! It’s a great mistake to make too much fuss, 
because if you don’t, things will come right. Papa 
can’t find Jo Wilkes; he can’t hear any news of him. 
And the Wasp hasn’t come back to Fleet well. So 
many young men go aWay from the Cape and never 
come back again ! And I know papa will never 
make any fuss about — about Ken. All he thinks of 
is Jo AVilkes.” 

“It was dreadful about Jo Wilkes,” said Robin, 
slowly. 

“ I don’t see how you can think it matters so much 
for a person like that ; he wouldn’t care,” said Mar- 
tha. “ And perhaps the Wasp went to the bottom,” 
she added, cheerfully. 

“ Oh, Martha !” exclaimed Robin. 

“ One wouldn’t wish it, of course ; it was dreadful 
to say that,” said Martha, contritely. “ But, anyway, 

I don’t believe Jo AYilkes will ever be heard from; 
so that is the last of all that fuss !” 

Ken wrote often to Robin now, chiefly to inquire // 
about Duke’s condition, which was now slowly 
surely improving. Robin’s answers were of the brief- 
est ; she could not And courage to write of the great 
matter that filled her mind, and she found it impos- 
sible to write of commonplace events. She could 
write of Dave’s recovery, although the doctor insist- 



,/ 



THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN ’’ 


223 


ed upon keeping him so quiet that it was difficult to 
discover whether he had wholly recovered his mem- 
ory or not. 

“Poor old Dave!” Ken had written in his latest 
letter. “ It is good to hear that he is getting better, 
but, as I told you, I don’t think so much about his 
father’s discovery as I did. I wish it might amount 
to something, but I’m afraid the chances are small. 
Anyway, it’s been a great thing for me, for it has 
shown me what I can do. I’ve been working, I can 
tell you, and studying up glass-making and coloring, 
and that’s what I want to do. Of course I know it’s 
a long road for a boy without money, but I have got 
a great scheme into my head since I’ve heard about 
the new flint-glass works that Hallett & Kawlins are 
going to build. I’ve read about them in the papers 
— the greatest thing in the country they’re going to 
be. I’m thinking that Are wasn’t such a bad thing! 
And it looks as if the opportunity for me were right 
there ! How would you like to have your bad penny 
come back ? I shouldn’t expect much of a place at 
first, of course, but they would do better for me than 
strangers would. Mr. Payer is going to write them a 
letter for me. He says he shall be sorry to lose me 
— he isn’t a man of many words either, Kobin, my 
lass — but he thinks that there’s my opportunity. I’ll 
tell you one thing, Pobin, I’ll be a better fellow if I 
do get home again. P. S. — You ought to see the let- 
ter which Mr. Payer has written for me to Hallett & 
Pawlins ! I'm afraid I couldn’t get such a character 
at home for ‘ the strictest faithfulness and honesty,’ 
but, Kobin, as true as you live, I’ve turned over a 
new leaf!” 


224 THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

A new leaf! But who was to wipe out the record 
of the old one ? The letter dropped from Kobin’s 
trembling fingers. To apply to Mr. Ilallett for a po- 
sition at tlie works ! Ken always was audacious, she 
thought ; he had never seemed to realize things like 
other people. She must not let him do that ! she 
must write to him that it w^ould not do. And yet 
why not let him be made to realize what he had done 
in that way as well as in any other? Poor, poor Ken, 
who seemed so strangely lacking in moral sense ! 

While she was still uncertain, in the beginning of 
winter, while the December days were short and cold, 
her father’s illness suddenly assumed an acute form, 
and even her anxiety about Ken was almost forgotten 
in the new care and danger. He was delirious, and 
old cares thronged in his brain ; the emptiness of the 
little church on the highest bluff and the uselessness 
of his ministry in Penauhant were the chief. It was 
Christmas Eve, and there were only dark shadows — 
shadows and silence — in the little church ; that was 
the vision that haunted him in his delirium, and in 
his lucid moments he had shown that he brooded 
over the same idea. 

“We must have a service on Christmas Eve! we 
must do it ! The boys may not have forgotten their 
carols entirely,” said Kobin to Jean, as they stole 
out together from their father’s room. 

“ But, Kobin, it’s so empty ! The Land Company’s 
creditors took even the chandelier, and the lamps 
along the walls !” said Jean. “ x\nd not so much as 
a desk — nothing but bare boards !” 

The Kawlins’s carriage stopped at the door in less 
than an hour after the girls had held this colloquy. 


225 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN ” 

Duke, muffled in furs, only the gaunt framework of 
a boy, with his blue eyes more prominent than ever, 
was lifted out. 

Ah, it was to Duke and Peggy and Kitty that she 
could tell her plan ! Duke could scarcely be too ill 
to think of helping others, and Peggy would be in 
her element. 

They were full of enthusiasm at once. Uncle Am- 
brose Gifford would read the service ; there was only 
a week, but Peggy would help to teach the boys the 
carols, so far as they had forgotten them. A few of 
the choir-boys had gone away to sea, but most of them 
could be found without difficulty. As for lamps, 
that was no difficulty ; were there not lamps enough 
in the Sandford stores ? 

Teaching the boys was hard work ; they had for- 
gotten the carols, and that was not the worst. Than- 
ny’s voice, which had been in keeping -with his che- 
rubic appearance, had grown a shrill pipe ; the best 
voices had all changed. But distance lends enchant- 
ment to sound as well as to sight. Was a carol ever 
anything but musical borne on the clear, frosty Christ- 
mas air? That was wdiat Duke and Peggy said, and 
the others agreed with them. 

Christmas Day dawned dull and lowering, with a 
hint of snow in the air. Before noon there came a 
message that Duke was ill again ; very ill he must 
be, for the girls sent only a hasty word of regret. 

“But the service need not fail. The boys can 
sing !” said Bobin, with feverish eagerness. 

She had told her father of what was to happen, at 
the doctor’s suggestion, and he had seemed wonder- 
fully soothed and cheered. He had had his bed 

15 


226 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANn” 

moved nearer to the window, that he might see the 
lights. 

Robin grew anxious as the early twilight came on, 
and the lamps had not come. Uncle Ambrose Gif- 
ford, who had shown great interest, had ordered them 
from Boston, not finding any that were suitable in 
Sand ford. It grew late ; seven o’clock — eight, and the 
choir-boys and a sparse little congregation had gath- 
ered in the bare church, where burned only the few 
feeble lamps which could be spared from the house. 

They have all failed us, Jean !” said Robin, bit- 
terly. 

“ 1 knew the Hallett girls wouldn’t come, because 
Alice Gifford’s going to have a Christmas party,” 
said Jean. 

Her father’s repeated murmur, reported by Moira, 
cut Robin to the heart. 

“ It must have been a dream. I thought Robin 
told me that there would be lights and music in the 
church — a Christmas service in the empty little 
church. Of course it must have been a dream. 
There’s a feeble little flicker of light — only enough 
to show the shadows that I’m always dreaming 
about.” 

Her mother came to Robin, weeping ; the disap- 
pointment was throwing him into a fever, she said. 

Cap’n Saul ! Thanny ! help me to build a bonfire, 
so that its light will show through the windows of 
the church. There is wood in our shed — plenty of 
drift-wood on the shore. When once the fire is liirht- 
ed, we can see to gather wood to keep it.” 

There were willing hands, in spite of the Sunday 
clothes, and just as the first flames darted upward a 


THE MATE OF THE “ MAKY ANN 


227 


jj 


carriage stopped at the church door, and Miss Ferris 
and Martha Hallett alighted from it. 

“We were sorry to be so late, hnt the Christinas 
dinner, you know,” gasped Miss Ferris; “and poor 
Mr Gifford has a dreadful attack of asthma — his old 
enemy — and the bonfire will be beautiful ; but why is 
' the church so dark 

“ The lamps didn’t come,” said Robin. 

“ The lamps ! I went to the station and got them 
this noon myself, and sent them over!” said Miss 
Ferris. “ Steve Prettygo agreed to deliver them 
safely at the chapel.” 

“At the chapel! Now that’s just like you. Miss 
Ferris ; you know you do get things so wrong!” said 
Martha, candidly. “ He took them to the Quansett 
Mission Chapel, of course !” 

“ Oh, and is there nothing to be done?” cried poor 
Miss Ferris, wringing her hands. 

“Yes, gather drift-wood; it makes such a fire!” 
said Martha Hallett. “ And it’s so delightfully 
Christmasy.” 

Martha scrambled through the sand, and made her 
way out among jagged crags of ice, regardless of her 
fine clothes, while Robin made Miss Ferris go into 
the church, which was warmed, consoling her by as- 
suring her that she could help very much about the 
singing. 

“Martha, your hands will be frozen, and you 
needn’t work so ; there are so many men. See ! they 
keep coming!” said Robin, her lieart wonderfully 
cheered. 

“ I want to help you ! I want to so much ! Pm 
so glad I didn’t go to the party with Ju ! If— if 


228 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘MARY ANN 


anything should ever happen, you’ll remember it of 
me, won’t you, Robin ?” 

Robin listened, only vaguely wondering. She had 
sucli a care upon her mind about the fire, to keep it 
steady and not too high, so that discovery could not 
mar her father’s satisfaction. Bonfires might be 
“ Christmasy,” as Martha said, but they would scarce- 
ly seem appropriate to her father as a means of light- 
ing a church. 

The choir -boys’ voices were a little hoarse from 
their exertions, but the carols rang out bravely in 
the frosty air. And they all sang, with might, and 
main, the old hymn which Mr. Dinsmore loved best 
of all — “Wbile shepherds watched their fiocks by 
night.” The sick man’s window had been opened a 
little, while he was carefully shielded from the air, 
and the doctor had said that it would “do him more 
good than medicine.” Moira came and reported- that 
he had gone to sleep “as soft and aisy loike as a 
babby” while they were singing that hymn. 

“ You won’t forget, Robin, that I — I wanted to 
help you ?” said Martha, insistently, as she went away. 

“I don’t know what she means,” said Robin, a lit- 
tle impatiently, to Jean, who had overheard. “ Of 
course I sha’n’t forget that she was kind.” 

Moira had made coffee for the carollers, who had 
sung some of the carols around the house in the cold, 
and it was late before they had all gone. 

Robin was extinguishing the light in the hall, when 
some one came running up the steps, three at a bound 
— Ken’s way, thought Robin, with her heart leaping. 
It was Ken himself who burst in when the door was 
opened, panting and almost exhausted. 







“ROBIN WAS EXTINGUISHING THE LIGHT IN THE HALL 




THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN ” 229 

“ I’ve run all the way from Qiiansett — had to, to 
keep from freezing — got so chilled on that schooner!” 
panted Ken, dropping into a chair. ‘‘You see, Hank 
Colson lost his bearings somehow. He was bound 
for Fleetwell — tliere’s where she hails from — the 
Wasp^ you know ; but he agreed to put in at Quan- 
sett and set me ashore. You see, I ran across Hank 
in Boston, just as Mr. Fayer had decided that I could 
come, though he had thought he couldn’t spare me 
in such a busy time — the last of the year. I thought 
’twas a streak of luck, because I couldn’t really afford 
to come on the cars ; a fellow doesn’t exactly roll in 
riches the first year in business, and I’ve been saving 
up to pay — well, what you know about. I guess it 
hasn’t hurt you as much as it has me !” 

Hobin drew a long, long breath. “ Oh, Ken, I’m 
glad you’ve come 1” she said. 

“ Well, I was beginning to think you didn’t behave 
much as if you were,” said Ken. “And it’s a won- 
der that I’m here, let me tell you that ! Came within 
a hair’s-breadth of getting wrecked on the Chunks ; 
she actually grazed on a rock ! If it hadn’t been for 
that bonfire, the Wasp’s bones would most likely have 
been at the bottom now, and mine, and all the crew’s!” 

Robin clung to him, to be sure that he was real 
flesh and blood. For a moment nothing seemed to 
matter, since Ken’s bones had not gone to the bot- 
tom. She told him the story of the bonfire, which 
had done so much more than was expected of it, and 
of the hope which the doctors had begun to hold out 
of her father’s complete recovery. 

“ But he must have nothing to agitate or worry 
him, the doctors say — nothing, Ken !” 


230 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN” 

“Well, we won’t give him anything, the dear old 
pater !” said Ken. “ Sha’n’t I astonish him with my 
Latin? — and with my zeal for business, too, I imag- 
ine. A fellow isn’t stuck up or anything, you know, 
Robin, but I do want him to see the letter that Mr. 
Fayer wrote to Hallett & Rawlins for me ! I asked 
them to send it yesterday, so it would get there just 
ahead of me, and I’m going to see Mr. Hallett to- 
morrow, Christmas or not. I can’t wait, Robin. I 
would rather see him than Mr. Rawlins, because I 
want to feel as if I got the place on my own merits, 
without owing anything to Duke — dear old fellow ! 
I hope he’ll get well soon. And Dave ! it’s great 
about Dave ! I must see him to-morrow too, if the 
doctor will allow it. I suppose he will by this time. 
It would be queer if there should be a fortune in old 
Freneau’s way of coloring glass, after all, wouldn’t 
it? Anyway, I feel like the old fellow who dug all 
over his farm to find a pot of gold ; and though he 
never found the gold, he made his land so fertile by 
digging that he raised wonderful crops and got very 
rich. Well, if ever I ever do have any money or in- 
fluence I’ll have a light-house on the Chunks. There 
really ought to be, you know. Better ships than the 
Wasp have been wrecked there, and will be again. 
Jo Wilkes, a fellow who used to work at the fac- 
tory, was on board, and came off at Quansett with me 
on his way to Sandford. It seems he was arrested 
for stealing something or other and ran away ; he 
says it was a ‘put-up job’ of that Carlsen, and he can 
prove that he’s innocent, and he’s going to try to get 
work again at the factory. But you’re awfully tired, 
Robin ; how white you are ! I mustn’t keep you up 


THE MATE OF THE MAEY ANN” 231 

any longer. I begin to think yon are a good deal of 
a sornebodj^, Kobin. You may live to build a bigger 
bonfire than tliat in tlie world 

He did not know that any one had been arrested 
for the theft of the watch ! There was a crumb of 
comfort in that, tliought Kobin. Perhaps he would 
not have allowed an innocent person to suffer. 

What a strange chance it was that had brought Jo 
Wilkes back at the same time with Ken ! She must 
prevent his going to Mr. Ilallett ; she must tell him 
that everything was known ; but in tlie morning — in 
the morning! 

It was a merry household in the morning, though 
it had to be a quiet one ; the father was better, and 
Ken w’as jubilant; his high spirits infected every one 
but Robin. 

She looks all worn out,” said Ken, to his mother. 
“ She looks as if she couldnH smile.” 

“Pm beginning to fear tliat Robin hasn’t a happy 
disposition,” said his mother; “Jean is more like 
me.” 

“ I want to speak to you, Ken, just a moment, be- 
fore you go,” said Robin, with dry lips and a voice 
that sounded strangely in her own ears, as Ken was 
making ready for his walk to Sandford. 

“You can’t just now, anyway,” said Ken, “for 
there’s Martha Ilallett coming, and with a bee in her 
bonnet, of course ; those Ilallett girls always have.” 

But Martha’s bee was not buzzing ; she was quiet 
and solemn. 

“ She looks as if something had happened,” said 
Ken, wonderingly. 

“ There are just you two alone ? that’s what I want- 


232 


THE MATE OF THE MARY ANN ” 

ed,” she said, looking around the room, and without 
a word of commonplace greeting. “Yes, I knew 
Ken had come” — in answer to an inquiring look from 
Kobin. “Jo Wilkes came to see papa. And papa 
had a letter about yon, Ken. He said — oh, you know 
what he would say, Kobin, thinking what he did, and 
then I seemed to realize what I had done. I didn’t 
at all at first, and I was so afraid that papa would 
send me away to school if he knew that I had made 
such a fuss and had Jo Wilkes arrested when he hadn’t 
stolen the watch! And when you begin to deceive 
like that — oh, it is so hard to find a way out of it !” 

“ Of course I don’t know what you’re talking 
about,” said Ken, “ but I have tears if this is the 
time to shed them,” he added, lightly. It was like 
Ken not to believe that Martha Hallett could have 
any real troubles. 

“ Oh, Kobin knows ! She will never speak to me 
again. I let her feel awfully, awfully^ and I didn’t 
own up, I was so afraid of papa !” cried Martha, in 
tones of such real distress that Ken’s levity gave way 
to sympathetic interest. “ It’s about my watch that 
you found and brought back to me the morning that 
you went away.” 

“ Brought — brought back to you ?” echoed Kobin. 

The dreadful burden of months slipped ofi in that 
one blessed minute ; but there was a burden of shame 
instead, that would not let her look up into Ken’s be- 
wildered face. 

“ I didn’t tell that you had brought it back. I had 
had Jo Wilkes arrested, and papa would have been 
so angry. And when Kobin thought that you — you 
hadn’t returned it — ” 


THE MATE OF THE ‘‘ MARY ANN ” 233 

“ Eobiri thought whatf^ demanded Ken, in a voice 
which made poor Robin quake. 

“You said, Ken, that you had — had done some- 
thing desperate for money!” said Robin, summoning 
all her courage. 

“ So I did,” said Ken. “ It doesn’t seem so despe- 
rate, now I have paid it, but I borrowed it of Duke 
Rawlins.” 

How simple was the explanation ! Oh, the long, long 
weeks in which she had tortured herself needlessly ! 

“ And I saw the watch in your drawer,” continued 
Robin, with an effort, “and I found out from Mar- 
tha — I thought I did — that you hadn’t returned it, 
and — oh, Ken, it didn’t come easy to think it of you, 
but what could I think?” 

“It gives a fellow a curious idea of how he must 
have behaved to make his own sister so ready to think 
him a thief !” said Ken, dryly. “ I remember now 
thinking that you had seen that watch, and were go- 
ing to blame me because I forgot it.” 

“ I told papa all about it this morning, and I sup- 
pose there’s no hope that I sha’n’t be sent away to 
that dreadful Normal School,” said Martha, pathet- 
ically. “ He said that if Miss Ferris were not going 
to be married, 'perhaps he wouldn’t send me, for he 
thought well of her influence in spite of what I’d 
done. And fancy that I put it into both their heads ! 
I was so crazy to get rid of her. I seem to have been 
such a fool ! And I don’t suppose you’ll ever forgive 
me, Robin, you or Ken.” 

“ Oh, bother forgiveness !” said Ken, in boy fash- 
ion. “ Of course you couldn’t expect to kick up such 
a bobbery.” 


234 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 

“I’m afraid it was I who kicked up the bobbery/’ 
said Kobin ; and then she told him all about Jo 
Wilkes’s escape in the Mary Ann^ and Carlsen’s re- 
ports ; it was such a relief to have it all over at once. 

“ It is a little queer for a fellow who thought he 
was getting on in the world to find that every one at 
liome was suspecting him of being a thief,” said Ken. 

“ I can’t ask you to forgive me^ Ken,” said Kobin, 
humbly. 

“Well, you look, old lass, pretty much as if you 
had got your deserts,” said Ken, with a quiver in his 
voice. And then he gave her a thoroughly consoling 
hug, and went off with Martha, who had recovered 
much of her vivacity, to see Mr. Ilallett. 

“ Oh, Jean, Jean, there never was such a Christmas 
day!” cried Kobin, whirling into the nursery with a 
rain of happy tears upon her face. 

“It is nice,” said Jean, placidly, “with papa bet- 
ter, and Ken at home behaving so much better, and 
good news again from Duke ” (Thanny, who had been 
sent to inquire in the early morning, had brought it), 
“ and I must say that muff and boa were just what I 
wanted. But I hope, Kobin, you’re not going to get 
hystericky like Annette Freneau. It doesn’t seem a 
bit like you.” 

Ken came back jubilant. Mr. Ilallett had been 
more than kind, and had promised at once to give 
him the place that he wanted. 

“ He really feels badly about what that girl did, 
and it was pretty rough on a fellow — rougher on you, 
Kobin.” 

“ If you only will never think of it again, Ken,” 
pleaded Kobin. 


THE MATE OF THE “ MARY ANN ” 


235 


“ I won’t. I liave much pleasanter things to think 
of,” said Ken. “I stopped to see Dave as I was 
coming home. They’re not going to keep him quiet 
much longer; he’s as well as ever. He drew out 
from under liis pillow the whole formula of the glass- 
coloring, his father’s great secret, written out from 
memory with a pencil and bit of paper which he had 
smuggled. I persuaded him to let me show it to Mr. 
Fayer. He’ll know whether it’s worth anything.” 

It was not until late in the spring, when the new 
works were in full blast, and Ken working his way 
bravely up through the trials of being only a boy, 
that it was discovered how much the secret was 
worth. 

“ I wouldn’t say anything until it was tested at the 
works, though Mr. Fayer sent me his opinion a month 
ago,” Ken said to Kobin, trying hard to preserve a 
manly calmness. “ It’s a success — not a great fortune 
as we fancied, but a valuable patent, because it’s a 
saving of money to glass-manufacturers. It is cer- 
tainly worth twenty thousand dollars, perhaps twice 
that. I’ve told Dave that I wouldn’t take a third, 
our old agreement. I haven’t done enough to help 
him; it wouldn’t be fair; but there’ll be enough of 
my share to make things comfortable here at home, 
and to give me a little start when Duke and I go into 
business. And you, Robin, you mustn’t be such a lit- 
tle drudge, with a load of care on your shoulders.” 

Don’t try to set everybody up in the world, Ken,” 
cried Robin, gayly. “Even Thanny wants to be man- 
ager at the works. It’s well that I have a contented 
mind, for I shall be left to be ‘ the cook and the cap- 
tain bold and the mate of the ’ — Mary Ann /” 





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